


From Padawan to Knight

by ceridwen_2020



Series: Rewriting the Prequel Trilogy [3]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Lightsaber Battles (Star Wars), Minor Character Death, Psychological Torture, The Dark Side of the Force (Star Wars), Torture, Unwanted Sexual Attention, War, trial by battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 78,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27352792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceridwen_2020/pseuds/ceridwen_2020
Summary: The CLONE Wars are a moment of clarity for the Republic. For years their enemy has been striking at them from the shadows. But now they are out in the open, revealed to be a motley crew of would-be despots, the half-recovered remains of a once feared warrior, and a group whose fanatical pursuit of credits makes them susceptible to the lures woven by the arch-conspirator, Count Dooku. Hyped on the Holonet, whispered in the canteens and seedy drinking dens, debated in the Senate, the reality becomes more and more semi-mythical, the dread of attack matched only by the galaxy's faith in the Jedi and Chancellor Palpatine. And so the Republic waits with bated breath to see what happens next.Against this backdrop, Anakin trains to be a Jedi Knight.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Rewriting the Prequel Trilogy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995421
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

It was always in the darkness. Cold, so cold it was, penetrating and harsh. Centuries of confinement, trapped in the freezing dark. Yet it had not always been so dark. Shifting images came, unclear; and there was still feeling, not only cold but intense feelings of helplessness, of being ensnared in a living tomb. Living? Because it was not death, not a death that was expected, not this cold, creeping death. A lifetime of frozen hours stretching into the darkness, stretching on without end, without reason. No this was not death, this was living torment.


	2. Illumination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi Council inform Anakin that he will complete the remainder of his Jedi trails. Although Obi-wan confides in his apprentice that they are still undecided about the Jedi's role in the war, he and Anakin prepare for their first campaign to Raxus Prime. They are joined by two other Jedi Masters, Alayhan and Junnan, and their Padawans, Brynx and Pitarwa. Anakin takes a shine to Pitarwa, whilst Brynx only annoys him.
> 
> Senator Amidala is also preparing for her own mission, to help the Republic's relief efforts for civilians on Manaan and Illum, She is accompanied by the Jedi, Siri Tachi.

If a tidy environment was equated with a tidy mind, then Anakin failed on both counts. Although a Jedi technically had few possessions, he still managed to leave what few he had in a state of disorder, tangled bedsheets left half hanging off the bed, a spare jerkin lying crumpled, tools, bits of wire and metal shavings strewn carelessly on the floor. And Anakin too was the epitome of chaos, leaving his chamber in such a rush that morning he almost collided with another of the younger Jedi rounding the corridor. After profuse apologies, he sped on eager to make the appointed time and spare himself another lecture from Obi-wan Kenobi. As he hurried along the passage that connected the sleeping quarters with the central hallways, he noticed a familiar figure waiting at the end. “Morning,” he said brightly, relieved that he was only a couple of minutes late.  
“Morning Anakin.” Obi-wan fell into step beside him, “I was beginning to worry.”  
“You worry too much.”  
“Someone has to. You do not seem to worry at all.”  
“Only because I know you will do it for me,” he grinned, effortlessly matching the quick, yet seamless, strides of his friend.  
The Temple was largely empty of its usual crowds of Jedi because of the early hour so their footsteps echoed nosily upon the marble floors as they walked through the long corridors, barely looking at the grandeur of their surroundings. It was such a part of the background that neither Jedi paid attention to it unless he required distraction from something less palatable. As they reached the Hall of Echoes, Anakin went to go left towards the exit and was surprised when Obi-wan made for the elevators at the opposite site of the hallway.  
“Aren’t we going to the Chancellor’s office?” The young man came to a halt, looking at his companion curiously. He had become used to Obi-wan’s taciturn manner, the older Jedi tending to communicate through subtle expression and action rather than words. For a perceptive Jedi such as Anakin this caused only a little confusion, however he knew that some mistook Obi-wan’s lack of volubility as rudeness, or worse idiocy, to their own cost.  
“Not yet.”  
“But what about the meeting?”  
“The meeting with the Chancellor is critical,” accepted Obi-wan, “but we must first go to the Council chamber. They wish to speak with you.”  
“With me? What for?”  
“Master Windu didn’t elaborate,” said Obi-wan but seeing a fleeting anxiety cross Anakin’s normally calm features he added, “I don’t think it’s anything negative Anakin unless there is something you are hiding from me?”  
“Of course not.”  
“Then I am as much in the dark as you. We’ll find out soon enough.”  
“Are you sure they didn’t even hint as to what it was about?” persisted Anakin, aware that Obi-wan was not always so forthcoming where the Council was concerned.  
The elevator was slow in arriving. “No, only that they specifically wanted to see you.”  
Anakin wasn’t listening, he was busy pressing the buttons for all the other elevators. “Come on.”  
“We only need one elevator.” Even in his natural state, Anakin was restless, always had to be involved in some activity. It was a trait Obi-wan rationalised he would never quell so he had decided to quit trying but it did not always help his own pursuit of tranquillity.  
Anakin was vindicated when one of the elevators he had called opened with a gentle chiming sound. He smiled smugly and stepped in.  
“Yes, Anakin, you made your point,” Obi-wan said wearily, following him into the elevator.   
The doors closed and the elevator shot upwards. “Are the Council yet decided as to our role in the war?”  
“They are still cautious,” said Obi-wan, speaking so low that he was almost drowned out by the gently piped music that accompanied their ride. “Not all of the Council are keen for the Jedi to be involved.”  
“But we are the Republic’s defenders as well as its peace-keepers,” protested Anakin. “Surely it is imperative that we are involved?”  
“As negotiators as well as warriors,” said Obi-wan patiently, having had the same conversation several times with many different Jedi. “But with this new intolerant mood sweeping through some Jedi we will spend as much time in negotiation over our role,” replied Obi-wan, “and that is all I can say on the matter presently.”  
It was clear that Obi-wan alluded to the so-called Evangelicals, a growing sect within the Temple which wished to re-connect the Jedi with the Force to the extent that they eschewed all worldly concerns. It had begun as a reaction to the turbulence which the Council had long noticed in the Force, which had started to constrain their ability to predict what was happening in the Republic, let alone the Galaxy at large. However, it was growing stronger as the confusion experienced by the Jedi showed little signs of abating. Anakin had little enthusiasm for the Evangelicals - they tended to be the most severe of Jedi with an overbearing self-righteousness that he was glad did not characterise Obi-wan’s nature - and took a more practical view that the Republic needed the Jedi and it would be wrong for them to abandon it in its greatest time of need. “Does that mean our investigations will be delayed?”  
“Possibly,” Obi-wan agreed. “But in principle the Council have agreed that we must get to the bottom of the mystery of Syfo-Dyas as quickly as possible. It is not only the Senate that wants answers.” The revelation of the existence of the army on Kamino had caused shockwaves amongst the Senate, especially when it transpired that a member of the Jedi Order appeared to be involved in its creation. Anxious to quell the inevitable condemnation, the Council were keen for Obi-wan and Anakin to pursue the limited information they had about the dead Jedi Master Syfo-Dyas.  
“Do you still that that this Lord Tyrannus is Dooku?” asked Anakin. It was par for the course that the Sith gave themselves grandiose titles and now that the Count had revealed himself to be practising the darker Jedi arts it was likely that he had adopted this new name in recognition of his betrayal of the Jedi Order. It also placed Dooku firmly behind the events on Kamino, the assassination of the Senators and the murder of Anseura Ban; coded messages found on Dantooine by Anakin revealed that Lord Tyrannus had been the Fett’s contact.  
“I am convinced it is he,” said Obi-wan, his mind containing unpleasant memories connected with that name,“but whatever he’s called, it means there is one Sith too many.”  
“That we can both agree on.”  
A chime indicated that the elevator had reached its destination.  
“I hope you are keeping our investigations discreet,” said Obi-wan as they exited, “especially since you seem to have attracted the attention of nosy politicians.”  
“My conversations with politicians are purely about trivial matters,” said Anakin smoothly.  
“Is that the same with the Chancellor?” Although Obi-wan was careful to keep his tone neutral, there was an underlying concern in his words.  
“Yes.”  
“Then what does he need to see you about?” Only yesterday Anakin had been called to the Chancellor’s office.  
“To find out how well I am coping with the new arm.” Thanks to the Chancellor’s intervention, the technology had been upgraded enough that he was having fewer problems in combat training. It’s flexibility had greatly improved.  
“I see.” Obi-wan was not sure why he felt so uncomfortable. “Do you know why he takes such an interest in your development?”  
“I have wondered that myself,” admitted Anakin. “He says that he feels responsible for me in some ways, he understands how unusual the circumstances of my initiation to the Jedi Order were.”  
“I see, well I suppose he was connected to the invasion of Naboo. Without it we might never have found you.”  
They lapsed into silence, Obi-wan pondering the significance of his own words. Although there was much debate over Anakin’s role, no one doubted his strength in the Force. There was something special about him. For a Jedi it was possible to see it, the collection of myriad ephemeral points of energy that seemed to resonate and sparkle about his pupil. No other being resonated with the Force quite as much as Anakin. Sometimes it was disrupted, at other times it was almost blinding in its intensity, but it was there now, as Anakin trotted alongside him, a winsome smile on his face. His smile could melt a thousand susceptible minds; perhaps the same charisma had captivated the Chancellor?  
“Don’t you think Master?” That winsome face was now looking at him quizzically.  
“Er… yes Anakin, I should expect so,” he blustered, pretending he had heard him.  
“You weren’t listening at all, were you?” tutted Anakin, eyeing his Master in mock annoyance. “What is it you used to tell me…?”  
“I tell you lots of things,” grunted Obi-wan, “am I to believe that some of it has sunk in?”  
“Of course it has,” grinned Anakin, “especially since you are so fond of telling me the same thing more than once.”  
They reached the doors to the Council chamber and all conversation ceased. Sweeping in, their cloaks swirling behind them, together they walked over to the centre of the chamber and came to a halt in front of Master Windu. Outside bright blue skies lay over Coruscant, only a few wispy clouds to mar its intensity.  
“Welcome Obi-wan, Anakin,” said Master Windu gravely, sitting forward in his seat.  
The two Jedi bowed formally.  
“Anakin, the Council wants you to complete the rest of your Trials, as soon as possible.” Like Obi-wan, Mace Windu was not one to couch his intentions in wordy sentences. He was always keen to get straight to the point.  
Anakin’s face lit up with surprise and gratitude. He glanced at Obi-wan fleetingly but his Master’s face remained impassive. “That is a great honour, Master.”  
“In order to become a Jedi we must face a number of tests,” explained Master Windu, clasping his hands together in front of him as if to emphasise the seriousness of the occasion. “And although your training has been unconventional, a necessity given these strange times upon us, we feel that through experience you have successfully mastered two of these tests.”  
“You have passed the test of the flesh,” intoned Plo Keen sombrely, nodding to his mechanical arm, “facing Count Dooku was enough.”  
“And your courage has been evident in these adverse times,” smiled Stass Allie, slim hands settled in her lap. “You have bravely faced our enemies of the Republic without falter.”  
“There are still two tests to go, Anakin,” Shaak Ti spoke next, her gentle voice a tonic to the sterner accents of her fellow Masters, “a test of skill and a test of spirit.”  
“I understand,” replied the padawan, perhaps a touch too boldly.  
“You must be mindful of the implications, Anakin,” said Obi-wan cautiously. “These tests will not be easy.”  
But holding my dying mother in my arms, thought Anakin. That was the greatest test I have ever had to face. But that was one test that he knew he had failed.  
“I can speak for the rest of the Council,” Mace Windu was saying, “when I say that we are impressed, Anakin, by your mastery of the Force. We cannot say however that we always approve of your methods.”  
“Reckless you can be,” said Shaak Ti solemnly. “You must be mindful that your impatience does not mar your judgement.”  
“You have a tendency to flout commands,” said Ki ali mundi, “and you continue to be affected by your emotions. These are tendencies which you must curb.”  
“I understand.” As much as he wanted to, he could not disagree with their reservations.  
“However, we do know that you have been working on your faults with Master Kenobi,” said Mace, deciding that there had been enough criticism. “Having watched your training and spoken to Obi-wan, we are assured that you have progressed under his direction. How you conduct yourself in the forthcoming campaign against the CLONE will help us to decide when you are ready to swap your padawan braid for the dignity of the Jedi Knight.”  
“Thank you, Master,” said Anakin modestly.  
“You must begin your preparation,” said Mace, his severe expression softening, “immediately after the meeting with the Chancellor. There can be no delay. Obi-wan, Admiral Organa has asked that you lead the third army to Raxus Prime.”  
“We are honoured,” said Obi-wan solemnly, “the Jedi must be seen to be an active force within this war.”  
“I agree,” said Master Windu, “the damage that has been inflicted upon us from the discovery of the army must not be capitalised upon by our doubters.”  
“Do what you must, Obi-wan,” said Hedi Junnan, “but remember you must act within the constraints of the Code.” She was not the only Jedi Master concerned for the increasingly martial spirit that appeared to have infiltrated the usually pacific Council. It was most disturbing.

Anakin assumed that Obi-wan’s support had been instrumental to the Council’s decision to allow him to progress to Knight. As the rest of the Council strode on ahead towards the transport that would take them to the Chancellor’s office, Anakin turned to him. “Thank you Master, this was very unexpected.”  
“Oh, it was nothing to do with me Anakin,” said Obi-wan, stepping over the threshold into the hangar where the speeders were waiting to take them to the Senate building. “I think I must have put in a good word for you somewhere but they reached the decision on their own. I must say Anakin that you have impressed them with your recent achievements.” In fact he had been more than impressed with Anakin recently, he had become a model student.  
“Really? I impressed them?” Anakin struggled to suppress a smile.  
“The Council may be very critical, Anakin, but that is how we learn. They have always admired your strength and agility, and the speed through which you have mastered the Jedi training. But don’t go inflating your ego,” he warned the young man, “the campaigns against the CLONE will not be easy.”  
“The Force forefend I ever overestimate my abilities, Master.” Chuckling, Anakin climbed into the speeder after Obi-wan but such words of praise seemed extra precious coming from his mentor, “Well, I for one look forward to the next few months.”  
“I am not sure why,” grinned Obi-wan as he took a seat next to him, “if you think your training so far has been difficult then you are gravely mistaken.”

The deputation of Jedi arrived at the Chancellor’s state rooms in good time but despite their status it still took several minutes to negotiate the stringent security checks put in place. When they reached the meeting chambers they found that the Chancellor had not even arrived.  
Only slightly ruffled, Mace Windu turned to Anakin. “Go to the Chancellor’s office and ensure that he is aware of our presence here.”  
“Yes, Master Windu.”  
Alone, Anakin walked down the plush hallway that led to the Chancellor’s state offices. Flanking the walls were empty-eyed busts of former Chancellors, and, no matter how many times he walked down this hallway it always struck him that there was not a bust to commemorate Finis Valorum. Despite his considerable term in office it was as though he had been erased from public memory, his name still mired by corruption charges and his failure to prevent the CLONE threatening the security of the Republic. Idly he wondered if there would ever be a bust of him some day for Republic citizens to admire, or perhaps in the Jedi Temple.“This is the Chosen One,” they would say, gazing up at the noble likeness in bronze, “the one who saved the Galaxy from the Sith. The one who brought the Force into balance when all hope was lost.”  
“Good day, Master Jedi,” said Dar Wac, coming out from the Chancellor’s office to meet him, “The Chancellor apologises, he was delayed by some last minute negotiations.”  
“Is he ready now?” Anakin did not see the point in correcting Dar over his real position within the Order, which also showed the aide had no clue who any of the Jedi were. ‘Master Jedi’ had a satisfying ring to it.  
“Not quite,” smiled Dar, ever obsequious, “why don’t you go on in and wait for him?”  
“Thank you.” As he entered the office, passing the two formidable red guards by the door, and approached Palpatine’s desk, the Chancellor looked up.   
“Anakin, how wonderful to see you. I assume the Jedi have arrived for today’s meeting?”  
“Yes, your Excellency,” Anakin bowed. It never ceased to amaze him how the most powerful man in the Republic was always pleased to see him. “They have assembled in the central meeting chamber.”  
The Chancellor looked at him sympathetically, “I am sorry that they had to send you as the messenger, it must be frustrating for a Jedi of your calibre. I will only be a moment, please take a seat.”  
Sitting down, Anakin waited patiently, looking around him with interest. Despite the grandeur of the Chancellor’s office it was a forbidding and sombre place, murals of conflict spread across the east wall did little to lighten the atmosphere. In the young man’s eyes the only redeeming feature was the circular window that overlooked the surrounding city; from his position he could see the Jedi Temple, the Senate, all the magnificent buildings at the centre of the city.  
Sighing, the Chancellor put down his holopad. “I wish we could have prevented this war, Anakin, I really do.”  
“How are the campaigns proceeding, Sir?”  
“I cannot lie to you, Anakin, not very well it seems. More and more consignments are needed from Kamino in order to meet the growing threat against us.” Gathering together the sprawling robes of his bulky costume, the Chancellor started to get up. “It is a shame that the Council do not yet feel you are ready to take more of a lead role but we will have plenty of time to discuss that in the meeting. I will try to persuade them of the need for our most gifted Jedi to be given some missions of his own.”  
Standing, Anakin smiled, “Thank you, your Grace, however the Council decided only an hour ago of their decision to let me take the final stages of the Trails. It will be another step towards greater independence.”  
“You think I am perceptive don’t you Anakin,” said Palpatine as he accompanied the young Jedi from the room, their cloaks swirling in unison as they moved, “but in reality I knew that it would not be long until they realised your readiness. Anyway, you must keep me informed of your progress,” he continued, patting the young man’s shoulder, “I can predict that the Council, and the Republic, will be counting on you more and more.”

“Anakin!” Obi-wan stood to one side of the training room, his lightsaber drawn. “Are you ready?”  
Thankful for the light tunic in the synthetic conditions of oppressive jungle heat, Obi-wan had been feeling particularly evil after the long and tiring meeting with the Chancellor, Anakin raised his own weapon warily. “Come on then!”  
They charged each other, Anakin determined to get his own back for his defeat at Obi-wan’s hands in their last bout. He had found it more difficult than he had expected to get to grips with his new limb. But the more he fought, and they had been practising every day without fail ever since he had returned to the Jedi Temple, he began to feel his arm was a part of him rather than an appendage. Some personal tinkering with the mechanics had undoubtedly helped. And as he parried Obi-wan’s energetic attacks, weaving like lightning across the wooden floor, he felt more and more confident that he was back to full prowess.  
He proved it by successfully blocking Obi-wan’s next attack, spinning round and knocking the Jedi onto his back, standing over him with a smile. “That’s for humiliating me last time!” Obi-wan had made him perform a number of excruciatingly painful manoeuvres, laughingly referred to as exercise, for losing the last fight and he still ached all over.  
“Fair enough, Anakin, you win.” Obi-wan allowed his pupil to haul him up, clasping his hand tightly in admiration. “You are doing well. Whatever problems you had with that new arm of yours, you seem to have overcome them.”  
“It has taken time Master,” said Anakin, beginning to learn the real meaning of patience.  
“Yes.” Pausing to take a deep breath, Obi-wan realised how exhausted he was. “But now let’s have a rest.” They had been training since the sun had risen, part of their preparation for the coming mission.  
Anakin nodded; he felt completely focused, concerned with overcoming his weaknesses, preparing his mind and his body for the tests he must face. He wanted the outcome to be a success.  
They left the training room and headed for the meditation chambers, through corridors alive with chatter and other Jedi going about their business.  
“You’re looking much better.” Obi-wan felt his pupil was thriving; gone were the dark shadows, the tiredness and distraction that he had exhibited before the incidents that had plunged them into war on Geonosis.  
“Thank you,” remarked the young man, saluting as they passed Ki ali Mundi. “I feel a lot calmer.” Part of that calmness had been a reduction in the number of dreams and visions that plagued since the death of his mother.  
“But…?”  
“There’s still so much tension.” He sighed noticeably; “Ever since we’ve been back here...” he trailed off, unsure how to express his meaning.  
“Yes, the Council has been split recently,” mused Obi-wan. “I am only sorry that you must be trained at a time of such disruption.”  
“Maybe, but I’m glad that I have been given a chance to serve alongside you Master, and the Council. I know that they do not yet agree on our role but I follow your lead.”  
“I am sure that you have heard the rumours as I have,” said Obi-wan quietly. “It seems that the circumstances we find ourselves in do enable us to move towards restoring our honour.”  
“We should not have to restore it,” said Anakin boldly.  
“No we should not,” replied Obi-wan. “But many systems have become too satisfied during the long years of peace, we all have. For many the rise of the CLONE has been a wake-up call, and it has been one for the Jedi Temple too.”  
They reached the meditation chamber. As they entered, Anakin placed his hand on his Master’s arm. “I appreciate your support Master. Without you I think I would have given up long ago.”  
“I am surprised to hear that from you,” frowned Obi-wan, wondering what had brought on this admission from his usually confident pupil, “you are the last person I would expect to give up.”  
Anakin shrugged, “As someone told me, we can’t be perfect all of the time.”  
“So you are getting advice from elsewhere now?” Obi-wan closed the door behind them and, removing his cloak, hung it next to the door.  
“Not intentionally,” replied Anakin, going over to one of the cushions and setting himself down comfortably. “It seems everyone around here likes to give me advice.”  
“Considering your track record, maybe you should start listening to some of it.”  
“Ha ha,” replied Anakin mirthlessly. Then he noticed a less becoming emotion flickering in Obi-wan’s eyes for a moment. He seized on it, “You’re jealous!”  
“It depends who is giving you this advice.” Obi-wan had his own suspicions.  
“Chancellor Palpatine.” Anakin watched Obi-wan as he sat down on his own cushion, but his expression remained impassive.  
“As I suspected,” he nodded. “I am not jealous, Anakin, but it makes me uncomfortable. Advice is all well and good providing it does not contradict anything I or the Council tell you.”  
“I will not heed it if it does,” replied Anakin. “Anyway, despite your reservations the Chancellor seems to be a wise and practical man. I don’t think he would consciously seek to undermine you or the Council, I certainly don’t sense any malice in his attitude towards the Jedi Order.”   
“That is true, he has been one of our most vocal supporters in the Senate.” For some reason lately their discussions seemed to involve the Chancellor whether by accident or design. He was not sure if he approved of the close interest that the Chancellor seemed to take in his pupil. Sometimes it seemed merely the interest of an older relative to that of a favourite younger relative. At other times Obi-wan could not help but wonder if there was more to it than that. But without banning Anakin from his presence completely, Obi-wan knew that he must just watch and wait. It was also a test in the trust he placed in his pupil. “Anyway, shall we get on with our meditation?” He felt anything but relaxed; some tension seemed to have sneaked into the room with them and hung there like an unwanted odour.  
Anakin sensed it too, taking a deep breath and expelling it. That seemed to do the trick and he closed his eyes, hearing the soft sound of his Master’s breathing and trying to match it, breath for breath. Soon they were in unison, even their hearts beating at the same slow, constant pace. Allowing the energy of the Force to penetrate them, to guide them and illuminate them. Finding the state just below the level of consciousness where they would be completely open to its mysteries and its will.

“Hold still Threepio.” Picking up the hydrospanner, Padmé advanced towards the droid.  
“Really Miss Padmé surely someone of a lower standing should be performing this task?” fussed the droid, as his mistress attempted to tighten the loose bolt on his arm joint. “It is not a job for a noble Senator such as yourself.”  
“You forget I was trained in engineering back on Naboo and besides, why go to all the trouble of finding someone else to do it when it will only take me one second,” grinned Padmé, wielding the hydrospanner with some gusto, enjoying the chance to undertake something practical.  
Beside them, Artoo whistled a question.  
“Yes that is correct my little friend, although that is not to denigrate the sterling work the Senator does.”  
Ignoring the droids, who tended to prattle amongst themselves, Padmé concentrated on her work. A little more effort and it was done. Satisfied, Padmé stood back to admire her handiwork. “So. How does that feel?”  
The taller droid, Threepio, tested his arm, moving it up and down at the joint, backwards and forwards. “Feels as good as new, Senator Amidala. In fact, if it I did not know any better I would have thought my little friend here would have done it, I really cannot tell the difference.”  
Indignant, Artoo whistled a long series of bleeps.  
As Padmé looked at Threepio in askance, the horrified droid only said, “You should watch your language in the Senator’s presence, Artoo Detoo.”  
The door opened smoothly, ushering one of the Senator’s handmaidens into the room. “You have a visitor,” said the young woman, Corday, to the Senator. “Anakin Skywalker.”  
“Anakin? Please, send him in.” This was an unexpected surprise. Ever since he had returned to the Jedi Temple, Padmé had barely seen Anakin. Despite the proximity of the Temple and the Senate they might as well have been on separate planets.  
“Good day Senator Amidala,” said Anakin pleasantly as he entered the room, bowing for good measure.  
“No need to stand on ceremony, Anakin,” said Padmé, laughing at his formality, “it is good to see you. Would you like anything to eat or drink?”  
“No thank you, my lady, I shall not be staying long.”  
This was the signal for Corday to leave the room. Taking a seat on the couch nearby, Padmé looked happily at Anakin. “You are looking very well.”  
“Thank you, as do you, my lady.”  
“I recently returned to Naboo for a few days,” said the Senator conversationally, “oh and I have a new droid.”  
“I see,” said Anakin, taking an interest in the gold plated See Threepio. “And what is it for?”  
“I am See Threepio, human cyborg relations,” replied the droid politely, “I am fluent in over six million forms of communication.”  
“That must be useful in the Senate,” agreed Anakin, admiring the finely crafted droid but also seeing the spanner. “Second hand?”  
“I bought him from a dealer here on Coruscant,” explained the young woman, wondering what the purpose of Anakin’s visit was. “R2, Threepio, you may leave the room now. Please can you return the tools to Captain Typho.”  
“As you wish, Senator Amidala.” Threepio followed the little droid out of the spacious living room.  
Anakin remained standing, “I came to see how you were, my lady, very little news reaches me in the Jedi Temple.”  
“I am well,” she said with relief, “I am surprised they give you any free time to make social calls.”  
“They don’t” said Anakin bluntly, “but I am running an errand for Master Kenobi which brings me to this area of the city and I thought I would pop by and see you.”  
“It’s a coincidence actually,” admitted the Senator, wishing that the Jedi would at least take a seat. His formality made her feel awkward, “I was hoping to speak to you on another matter.”  
“Which is?”  
“I wondered if you would consider taking Artoo to use on your expeditions? I was considering selling him because I don’t really need him any more, he’s not one for serving drinks and greeting guests like Threepio.”  
“I am certain we can find a use for him, if you are certain?”   
“You’re the only person I know who can understand him,” she grinned, “so please take him. And I won’t take any arguments to the contrary.”  
“Very well,” said Anakin, appreciating the gesture. Most of the droids in the Jedi Temple were as humourless and staid as the Jedi themselves, whereas Artoo had a spark of mischievousness which seemed to been entered into its programming or it had developed this on its own. “Can you send him over to the Temple? I cannot take him back with me now, otherwise Obi-wan will know that I have been distracted from my task.”  
“How is Obi-wan?”  
“In fine spirit,” smiled Anakin, finally taking a seat. “We are to be sent on a mission for the Republic, to lead the army hoping to break the siege on Raxus Prime.”  
“And you are going with him?”  
“Of course.”  
“Will you be away for a long time?”  
“I don’t know.” Her apartment was cold and he shivered involuntarily, “It depends how long it takes to break the siege.”  
She looked at him gravely, “I hate to think of you being in so much danger.”  
“It’s what I’ve been trained for.” Remembering how skilled Padmé was in battle, he was surprised at her attitude and told her so.  
“Forgive me, I was remembering what happened to you the last time we were in battle,” she said, alluding to his wounds at the hands of Dooku. “It only gives me something else to worry about.” Seeing him now, in her apartment, reminded her of how strong her feelings for him were.  
“There is no need to worry about me,” said Anakin, sensing something was amiss and wondering if he had done the right thing in visiting her. “This is why the Jedi Order frown on attachments in case they try to make us feel guilty.”  
“I’m sorry.” She pulled herself together, “I would rather this war was not being fought at all.”  
“I know, but those decisions are out of our hands and we must serve the Republic.” He smiled to ease the tension, “I promise I’ll come back in one piece. Well,” he said ruefully, as the whining gears of his mechanical hand reminded him sharply of its existence, “the pieces of me that are left. Anyway,” he continued, knowing more about her future movements than she did about his, “I don’t know why you’re so worried about me, you’re also getting involved with the war effort.”  
“That’s to help, not to fight.”  
“Merely semantics,” laughed Anakin, finally getting round to the real reason behind his visit; to see her again before they both journeyed into the unknown away from the relative safety of Coruscant. “I wanted you to know Padmé that I will be thinking of you,” he said gently, taking her hand and kissing it.  
It made her heart suddenly leap in her chest and she fought to quell the rising desires within her, “Keep safe Anakin, I will be thinking of you too.”

The screams echoed faintly along the deserted corridor, bland in their grey plasteel fastness. There was no one to hear how they steadily increased in pitch until dying away in an agony of groans.   
Silence returned but its presence was no more comforting.  
A door opened smoothly and a tall figure emerged, the soles of his boots clipping smartly against the tiled floor. Wrapped in shadows from the dim lights of the corridor, he started to make his way along the corridor pulling from his hands plastic gloves with a sharp thwap as he did so. Casually he flung them to the floor, ignoring the viscous and crimson liquid that seeped from them onto the tiles. Someone else would remove the evidence; he had no time for things below his lofty concentration. In his mind he was satisfied that the experiment has been successful. Concentrate on her rage he had commanded and the implants had done their job. Not for her the cool demeanour that he exhibited, or the corrosive emptiness eating away at his already corrupted heart. No, hers was to be a passion pushed right to the brink, twisted to fit his own desires for revenge. It was not so forced, instead lovingly caressed and nurtured through brutality. It had been all too easy to incite her to greater extremes until she was literally seething with raw, unrestrained fury.   
'So Skywalker, you think you can feign ignorance of the darkness that lurks within you? Let’s see how you fare against one who represents all that you might be, one who is not afraid to make anger their ally.'

Obi-wan was up the next morning bright and early. Full of enthusiasm for today began his first real, significant campaign as a General for the Republic Army. In his mind, unusually for the calm Jedi, he felt both excitement and nervousness. Calling in at Anakin’s chambers in the Temple he was surprised to find them empty. “Oh dear, he must have beaten me to the hangar,” thought the Jedi with annoyance. Anakin could be so petty about such things, giving his pupil weeks of amusement and him weeks of embarrassment. There was little else to do except proceed directly to the hangar himself.  
Arriving at the hangar, he discovered a chaos of preparation; boxes were being carried aboard the colossal Republic Cruiser, Intrepid, in armoured hands munitions and weapons were being checked and tagged, troops were being loaded onto armoured carriers. However there was no sign of Anakin and immediately Obi-wan was concerned - where could he be?

Reaching across the desk, Chancellor handed over the packet of information that he had asked Anakin to come to collect. “I expect you are excited about your first campaign, Anakin?”  
“Yes, your Excellency,” said Anakin, suitably solemn for the important task that had been conferred upon him. “But not too excited.”  
“Ah yes, you mentioned that the Council think you can be reckless at times.” The Chancellor leaned back in his chair, “However, the young are able to be reckless, compared to us old timers who are having to face their own mortality. I should not let your spirit be dimmed, even if you must practice greater caution. Without that spirit at the battles of Naboo and Geonosis the Republic might have crumbled years ago.”  
“I cannot claim credit for the successes we enjoyed in the past,” said Anakin uncomfortably, “There are many who are prepared to defend the Republic.”  
Palpatine laughed, “Oh Anakin, you are so wonderfully modest.”  
“I follow the example of Obi-wan, and yourself, your Grace.” Anakin was mindful that the Chancellor accepted his responsibilities with a heavy heart; he did not appear to pursue power relentlessly for its own sake.  
Shaking his head, the elder man looked embarrassed. “Anakin, you are naturally humble and these concerns that the Council have are merely that; concerns.” The Chancellor regarded him attentively. “Do you share those concerns?”  
“Yes, I do.” Anakin had worked hard to overcome his weaknesses but he knew that it would be a long, slow process. “I know that I feel things more strongly than a Jedi should.”  
“I am not surprised,” said Palpatine sympathetically, “with the troubles that you have experienced in your short life, Anakin, I cannot see how anyone would not be subject to vagaries of emotion. And after what happened to Master Qui-Gon and to your mother at the hands of the Tuskens I think you have done rather well to remain as self-possessed as you are.”  
“Thank you, your Grace, but I would rather put those events behind me.”  
“Of course you would, and I am sorry to have mentioned them.” Palpatine sighed, “But I hate to see you blame yourself. Soon you will learn control and then you will have nothing to fear.”  
“Yes, your Excellency.” He had learned to give the Chancellor just enough information to appease his desire to be a kind of mentor and give him advice and support.  
“Anakin, you have a pure and good heart. Even if you are sometimes a little unorthodox you should be proud of your achievements and so should the Council.”  
“Thank you.” Anakin had begun to notice that the Chancellor’s comments were always along the same lines; he could almost recite them from memory.  
“As I always say, the end will justify the means,” Palpatine eased himself out of his seat. “Anyway, we better not keep Admiral Organa waiting any longer.”  
“I am most grateful for your counsel.” Anakin bowed, mindful of the time. It meant he would have to sprint over to see Admiral Organa before making it to the hangar to meet his Master. Obi-wan was doubtless worrying about where he was.  
“Give my good wishes to Master Kenobi and may the Force be with you on your mission.”  
As Anakin left the Chancellor’s office, he was reminded in some obscure way of Master Qui-Gon; Palpatine seemed to have the same calm tone and the same patient confidence in his abilities as the elder Jedi had. Obi-wan had always been less forgiving, less frivolous with his praise but that was Obi-wan’s way. He was less expressive of his feelings and Anakin would not condemn him for it. After all, when he did praise him, he knew that he meant it.

Far across the city, a suspended landing platform was bustling with activity as supplies and troops were loaded into the nearby Republic cruiser. To the side stood a young lady gazing out across the cityscape of buildings and streaming traffic, her features unreadable beneath a veil of thin gauze that floated around her face with each movement of the breeze.  
“Senator Amidala?”  
Distracted from her thoughts, Padmé turned round to see a female Jedi, tall and willowy, coming towards her. “Hello,” she greeted her in a friendly manner, “You must be Master Tachi?”  
“Please call me Siri.” The Jedi held out a slim hand whilst admiring how graceful the Senator appeared, “Forgive my slight delay.”  
Taking Siri’s hand in hers, Padmé smiled. “We only just arrived here ourselves.”   
The two females faced each other, vastly different in terms of their experience; the short, elegant figure of the Senator swathed in heavy, ostentatious garments for travelling, and the lithe, athletic figure of the Jedi in her simple and austere robes of canvas.  
“My lady, your ship is ready.” It was Captain Typho, his face grim. He nodded a terse greeting to the Jedi. “Shall we proceed on board?”  
“It is very worthy of you to volunteer to help co-ordinate the relief effort on Manaan and Illum,” said Siri as they headed up the ramp.  
“It is the least I can do,” said Padmé gravely, stepping aside to allow Siri to enter the cruiser first, “There are so many who are less fortunate than ourselves.”  
“Indeed there are, but I am surprised that they are allowing you to travel outside of Coruscant,” continued Siri, saluting the commander of the troops as they passed along the corridor of the gigantic cruiser, “after the danger you have been in. I would have thought someone would have tried to discourage you?”  
Suppressing a smile, Padmé said, “Indeed, I was discouraged,” here she glanced at Typho who returned a wry smile, “but whilst the Senate is in recess it seemed appropriate for me to aid the citizens of the Republic rather than remain here and do nothing.”  
“There is no use arguing with her,” added Typho resignedly, evidently he had already tried many times.  
“Then what Master Kenobi tells me is true, you are very brave Senator Amidala,” said Siri admiringly.  
“Master Kenobi surely exaggerates,” replied Padmé as they passed into the hold, adding simply, “I want to help.”  
The door slid shut behind them.

“Master!”   
Obi-wan turned round to see Anakin staggering towards him with a large metal box. Panting, he placed it on the ground as Obi-wan looked at him curiously.  
“Where have you been?” asked the Jedi, “and whatever have you got there?”  
“Extra rations,” coughed Anakin, still getting his breath back, “courtesy of Admiral Organa. He didn’t think we had enough.”  
“We won’t be there long enough to need all of those,” said Obi-wan, frowning slightly. “At least I hope not.”  
“Well if anything goes wrong at least we won’t run out of delicious ration bars,” grinned Anakin, knowing they were not relished as a foodstuff by Obi-wan or anyone he knew for that matter. “Oh and the Chancellor asked me to give you this, an up-to-date intelligence report.”  
“How did you get this?” Taking the holopad, Obi-wan scanned it’s contents quickly.  
“I had a message to see the Chancellor this morning,” replied Anakin, taking a seat on the box. He needed a rest after lugging it all the way from the Admiral’s offices, it was near impossible to hire a transport at the moment with all the war preparations taking place.  
“And you didn’t have time to leave a note?” Obi-wan said absently, still engrossed in the holopad.  
“I asked Brynx to tell you,” Anakin looked around for the padawan, “but he’s not here yet?”  
“No. And I suppose you haven’t seem Masters Alayhan and Junnan on any of your travels either?”  
“No,” said Anakin lightly, ignoring the barb in his Master’s tone.  
“Did you forgot that I was coming to meet you at your quarters this morning?” finally Obi-wan decided to tackle the source of his annoyance.  
“No, Master,” said Anakin blithely, “as I said I left a message for you with Brynx telling you I would be seeing the Chancellor and the Admiral bright and early this morning.”  
“I see,” frowned Obi-wan in the face of Anakin’s confidence. “Perhaps you should not rely on other padawans to give messages in the future?” If he had been honest, the real source of his annoyance was the fact that the Chancellor had called Anakin to him in order to give them the update; technically it should have been given to the leader of the mission, himself.   
“I best get these on board,” said Anakin, picking up the box again, deciding that his Master was determined to be in a bad mood and there was little he could do. After taking the box into the ship and coming back out again, Anakin saw that Obi-wan was still alone. He went over to where he stood, “So where is everyone?”  
“I was just thinking that myself,” he commented dryly, checking his wrist-strap. “They should be here be now.”  
It was then that Anakin saw the small group of Jedi approaching the ship through the busy docking yard, composed of two Jedi knights and their respective padawans. Reaching the two Jedi, both padawans eyed Anakin with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. They knew all the stories about him, which had been gossiped about and embroidered across the Jedi Temple.  
“Master Alayhan, Master Junnan, greetings.” Obi-wan greeted them both with gusto. “I am pleased that you are to accompany us on our little trip.”  
Alayan Hun’qhun, a tall Twi-lek of turquoise skin, shook hands with Obi-wan and Anakin warmly. “Master Kenobi, it is an honour to be serving with you. You are looking well. Apologies for our lateness, we had to walk from the Temple as there were no transports available.”  
“Yes, it is becoming a problem, isn’t it?” Turning to Hedi Junnan, her hair sparkling as the crystals caught the morning sun, Obi-wan kissed her pale cheeks lightly. “How are you my lady?”  
“Well enough, General Kenobi,” she said, her melodic voice tinged with sadness. Hedi’s willowy framed was encased in flowing robes of white symbolising her commitment to peace; a serious and aloof Jedi, she was not ardent regarding the direction taken by the Council over the war. However, unlike other Jedi of an Evangelical bent, she did not shirk from her duty now the occasion demanded.  
“Why Anakin, you are looking very well,” Alayhan addressed him in his lighthearted manner. “You have grown in the Force significantly since we last met.” The general chaos and confusion that surrounded the young man when he first entered the Temple was starting to subside as he mastered his power, replaced by a more stable, if occasionally erratic, sense of energy and strength. It was evident to all those present and they regarded Anakin in wonder, if not awe.  
Anakin smiled, “I hope in mental as well as physical capacity.”  
Alayhan chuckled, “I can imagine that Obi-wan has been keeping you on your toes. Anakin, have you met my padawan before?” He gestured to a young female hovering behind him, patiently waiting.  
Anakin shook his head. “I don’t think so.”  
“Hello.” Alayhan’s padawan looked rather frail dressed in an overly large buff-coloured tunic of coarse cloth and wide trousers of the same material that flapped about her thin body. Some attempt had been made to hold it together with a broad belt about her waist. Her dark hair was braided so tightly to her head it gave her a rather severe expression but she couldn’t have been much older than fourteen. “I’m Pitarwa.”  
“Pleased to meet you,” he said politely, taking her proffered hand. It was smooth and warm. He knew that he was going to like her more than Hedi Junnan’s padawan, Brynx, the young man whom he had asked to carry a message to Obi-wan that morning. Brynx was older than Pitarwa, his dark hair brushed back from a rather arrogant looking face. Neither of the young men had warmed to each other during their shared training sessions in the Jedi Temple and both continued to keep their distance. “Hello Brynx.”  
“Morning, Anakin.” Brynx nodded absently. He remembered Anakin chiefly because of all the fuss that had been made about him by the Jedi Council, thinking that he was the Chosen One. For Brynx, who struggled with a strong streak of arrogance which had impeded his training, there was more than a little jealousy in the attention that Anakin received, made worse by the fact his exploits seemed to only confirm the Council’s interest in him. “Looking forward to your first proper campaign?”  
“Yes I am,” replied Anakin smoothly, sensing the younger man’s continued dislike of him, “we might have left sooner if not for the slight interruption due to having my arm hacked off by Count Dooku…”  
“That was on Geonosis, wasn’t it?” said Pitarwa excitedly. She had heard all about Anakin’s exploits and for many of the young padawans he came across as a glamorous, even inspirational figure, “What was it like to fight with Count Dooku?”  
“I”d be surprised if Anakin can remember any of it” said Brynx before Anakin could get a word in, “he was unconscious for most of the fight.”  
“And how many Sith Lords have you fought, Brynx?” countered Anakin, giving a sly wink to Pitarwa. “When you have, we can compare notes.”  
Defeated, Brynx pulled a face, “I haven’t been given the opportunity yet.”  
“I don’t think I’d like to have the opportunity.” Pitarwa was looking at Anakin’s replacement hand with a mixture of awe and fear.  
“Come on you three,” called Obi-wan from the ramp of the ship, “there’s no time to stand around chatting.”  
Picking himself up from the support he was leaning against, Brynx made his way up the ramp followed by Anakin and Pitarwa.  
Anakin could not help but notice that Pitarwa was still staring at his arm, “Never seen a fake arm before?”  
“Not on a Jedi,” she blushed awkwardly, looking away.  
“Is this your first time away from the Temple?” Anakin could sense that she was afraid. They were in the ship by now and headed for the main hold, still following the party in front.  
She nodded, “Master Alayhan tells me not to be nervous but Raxus Prime seems so far away.”  
“It’s okay to be nervous,” he smiled, hoping to put her at ease, “we’re all a little bit nervous, even Master Kenobi.” That was not strictly true, but he was sure that Obi-wan would not mind being used as an example to help calm the nerves of the youngest, least experienced Jedi.  
“Really?” Pitarwa could not believe it; the elder Jedi seemed so composed, so ready for what lay ahead. She felt so young and naïve next to them. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”  
“No I’m not. I always get nervous,” insisted Anakin, glancing over to where his Master was assembling with the rest of the Jedi around the central holo-table. “Because I never know what Master Obi-wan is going to tell me off for next.”  
“Anakin,” barked Obi-wan, looking at him in annoyance, “are you going to pay attention or talk over me?”  
“I will pay attention, Master,” replied Anakin with a glint in his eye, showing off now, “unless you say something I disagree with.”  
This made most of the assembled group laugh. Obi-wan had forgotten that the easy banter between him and Anakin might be quite different to the relationships established between most Jedi masters and their padawans. “Very funny Anakin, now please can we all concentrate on the mission ahead of us.”

“Thank you Anakin, your help is appreciated,” said Obi-wan as he and his padawan finished switching off the assorted holograms they had used to describe their strategy. It was late and the rest of the Jedi had already retired.  
“No problem Master,” smiled Anakin, who had been an exemplary student and model for the other padawans. “I was wondering if there was anything else you would like me to do before I retire? Put on your thermo-heater? Make you a cup of hot chocolate…?”  
“Why are you being so helpful Anakin,” laughed Obi-wan, who could not help being suspicious, “what do you want?”  
“Nothing,” protested Anakin innocently, “what makes you think I have a hidden agenda?”  
“Oh let me see…”  
Before Obi-wan could reel off one of his lists – almost invariably stretching the truth in some shape or form – Anakin coughed. “Well, if there is nothing more I’ll be going to bed then. Goodnight Master.”  
“Hold on a moment,” said Obi-wan with a grin. “There is something you can do for me. You can take this to the bridge.”  
Rolling his eyes, Anakin took the holopad from his Master, “I knew it.”  
“Just testing your perceptions Anakin,” said Obi-wan breezily, collecting his pile of strategic documents and following Anakin out into the corridor. “Congratulations, you’ve passed.”  
“Do I win anything?” He looked at his Master expectantly.  
“Yes, you can go to bed once you’ve delivered it.”

Coming back from the bridge, Anakin was passing one of the darkened chambers when he heard a strange noise. It sounded like snuffling, or muffled crying. Stretching out into the Force he sensed that it was indeed someone crying, he could feel their sadness keenly. Curious, he entered the chamber.  
“Lights.”  
They came on immediately. It was a storeroom, full of metal containers of all shapes and sizes, but at first he could not see any living thing although he could still hear them. “Who’s there?”  
The snuffling suddenly stopped.  
Whoever it was seemed to be holding their breath, hoping he would go away maybe. But, not liking to think that someone was alone, suffering alone, Anakin persevered. Making his way over to the corner, climbing awkwardly over boxes eventually he saw a small dark head lodged between them. “What are you doing down there?”  
Pitarwa looked up at him, blinking and bleary-eyed. She looked tiny in amongst the boxes.   
“What’s the matter?” asked Anakin kindly, crouching down next to her so that he was not quite so dominating.  
Reddening, the young padawan wiped her hand quickly over her face to hide the tears, “Nothing. I just…” But she burst into fresh tears before she could finish.  
Anakin put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright if you need to cry.” He knew only too well the dangers of keeping feelings locked up inside.  
“I don’t mean too,” hiccupped Pitarwa, feeling some comfort from his presence and calming a little.  
“What is it?” he asked again, even more gently. When she did not immediately volunteer the information he squeezed her shoulder, “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”  
Turning her huge dark eyes to his face she said plaintively, “I’m frightened.”  
“It’s okay to be frightened,” said Anakin soothingly, “we’re going on a very dangerous mission. I imagine this is your first?”  
She didn’t answer and he patted her arm gently, “Tell me if I’m being nosy.”  
“No, you’re not.” She stopped snivelling and looked at him puzzled, “It’s just… no one’s ever really asked me how I feel before.”  
“Very few people do but it's nothing to be ashamed of. Believe me.”  
“But a Jedi should not be frightened,” moped Pitarwa, who felt she was too unprepared for the expectations of her Master but was too afraid to address it with him.  
“No, we shouldn’t fear anything. But you’re still in training, Pitarwa, it is a skill you have to learn. But you mustn’t hide your fears either,” he went on, gently wiping away the tears from her cheeks, “Keeping them hidden is much more dangerous. We cannot resolve them until we face them and attempt to understand what they are.”  
“Do you tell Master Obi-wan everything?” she asked him, pulling herself together.  
“I try to,” said Anakin, knowing it was not an outright lie. There were some things that no matter how hard he tried he could not bring himself to share with the older Jedi.  
“I’m… I’m afraid to fight.” She looked embarrassed.  
He shrugged it off, “I’m not surprised. Especially if you’ve only engaged in stimulated combat.”  
“Master Alayhan expects so much from me,” she went on, feeling safe and comforted by Anakin’s presence, “and I don’t want to fail him. But I never even made my own lightsaber yet and Master Alayhan says we can find a crystal on Raxus Prime...”  
“You must try to have more confidence in yourself,” soothed Anakin, “your Master must have confidence if he wants you to make your first lightsaber.”  
“Is it hard?”  
“It depends what you mean by hard.” He thought for a moment, “If you want a challenge, try making Master Kenobi laugh.”  
She giggled. “Do you ever give a straight answer?”  
“No,” he grinned, “but you needed cheering up.” She seemed to have forgotten her tears, which pleased him, he did not like to see anyone suffering. “Anyway, we should get you to bed. You’ll feel better after a sleep.”  
“Thanks to you.”  
“Oh I don’t think so,” replied Anakin, getting up and making sure that she did too. “Come on. And,” he continued as he ushered her out of the storage room, “if you ever feel upset or worried about anything, talk to someone. Your Master. Me. It’s better than keeping it inside, believe me.”  
“I will.” She smiled, happy to have found a friend.  
Anakin saw her to her cabin then made his way to his own which he shared with Obi-wan. Opening the door quietly he slipped into the cabin. Creeping over to his bunk he had nearly made it when all the lights suddenly came on. Blinking, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the harsh light.  
“Ah there you are Anakin,” came the wry tones of Obi-wan, “I was just about to consider sending out a search party.”  
“No need Master,” replied Anakin and started to unfasten his belt.  
“Whatever were you doing?” Obi-wan, tucked up in bed, was watching him curiously. “I didn’t think that little task I gave you would take so long.”  
Anakin’s voice came slightly muffled as he disappeared into his tunic, “I was talking to Pitarwa.”  
“Is that Alayhan’s padawan?”  
“Yes, you really should learn their names Master.” Pulling off his boots, Anakin was finally ready to make the climb to the top bunk.  
“I will do,” maintained Obi-wan, ignoring the slight. “But watch you be careful what you tell her. She is at an impressionable age.”  
“Why? What do you think I am going to do with her?” asked Anakin, climbing into the bunk and hunkering under the thin, minimum issue covers. The Republic Army was obviously as stingy as the Jedi Temple when it came to thinking about the comfort of its members.   
“Just don’t turn them into little rebels or anything.” Turning off the lights, Obi-wan could not help grinning into the darkness.  
“I’m hurt,” came back Anakin’s disembodied voice. “I was only trying to help Pitarwa conquer her fears.”  
“Very commendable of you,” conceded Obi-wan, turning over on the uncomfortable bed amidst much creaking and groaning of the springs beneath him. “And it’s unlike you to be able to take a joke.”  
“Then I must be getting better at avoiding your mind probes,” it was Anakin’s turn to grin.  
“One day I will learn,” sighed Obi-wan, closing his eyes. “Goodnight Anakin.”  
“Goodnight.” As he lay in the darkness, a sudden vision of Padmé popped into his head. She was standing in a tent, dishing out food to a long line of refugees. But instead of food in the bowls was a vicious, red liquid that looked suspiciously like blood. Having received their food the refugees were drinking the stuff down, it ran down their chins and onto their shabby clothes, saturating them. Soon Padmé was covered in it too, blood was everywhere. Horrified, Anakin opened his eyes, hoping to dispel the vision and for a while he lay there, too afraid to go back to sleep in case the vision came back. It was many hours before he finally fell asleep.


	3. Hiding in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving on Raxus Prime, Anakin and Obi-wan find a planet shattered by war and no sign of Dooku or the CLONE. Meanwhile, in an unknown location, Dooku trains a young female warrior, fierce and angry, her rage increased by unnatural implants and cruel treatment. Her goading of the Republic Army sparks a streak of rebelliousness in Anakin that leads to disappointment from Obi-wan and a fierce fight with the dark side warrior. But Anakin redeems himself later when he and Pitarwa find their lightsaber crystals together.
> 
> On Manaan, Padme finds hundreds of civilians displaced from their homes by the war, disappointed by what little she can do to help. But when she is kidnapped, she finds disturbing evidence that Dooku is creating an army of disillusioned Jedi. It is up to Jedi Siri Tachi to save her but Padme more than holds her own in an increasingly desperate situation.

Chained in the dark. Not even a chink of light to enliven the all-encompassing darkness or to enable her to see her hand as she held it before her face… if she still had a face. She only knew she existed because she could feel the taste of skin against her dry mouth, gnawing her finger for comfort. Crawling on the floor she could feel the cold of the stone, the damp that grew. That much was real. And the life she lived in her head. The darkness could not claim that even if the images were no longer more than visions sent to torture her. Remembrances of conflict, the cruel hole in the ground where her mother – her poor dead mother with the gaping hole in her forehead, remembering the blood, everywhere the sticky stench of death – had cradled her sobbing – not only her mother but her poor brother, such a young boy and he was dead, the explosion that disrupted her world, throwing into confusion. Remembering his torn head lying beside his arms, ripped to pieces as if he were nothing but meat. An orgy of strife awaited… Remembering the panic, her lungs tearing as she ran from the creatures in black with the burning red lights that seared the skin of those who went too close… she watched them fall, too afraid, there was no one to save them. Her hands scratched in the dirt, please help us. It’s war and it becomes the only thing she knows; an orgy of revenge, her destiny to face the enemy across the divide marked out in her peoples’ stinking corpses. To watch those like her burn away into ashes, to see their skulls split and their skin blistered. Their bones ground down into dust to join the countless others that fed the insatiable desire within her.  
Then he had found her and life had become a long mindless stretch of darkness. Waiting to find meaning again. Waiting, her skin growing paler without light, her mind growing darker as they fed her with violence. Waiting to revenge those who had made her, waiting, waiting…

Raxus Prime was a planet shattered by war, a system of ruins. Its once grand settlements and buildings had been decimated by extensive bombing raids, the landscape altered by the scorching machinations of armies and troops. Overwhelmed by the might of their assailants, the inhabitants had been unable to present a credible defence; their small army was already wiped out, the rulers of the various cultures massacred or driven into the untamed areas of the planet, the extensive jungles and wastelands into which they had disappeared. Only the capital, Llantg’ Sala, remained stoic against the CLONE whilst the Chairman of Raxus Prime cowered inside, sending more and more desperate pleas to the Senate for assistance. It was the brave resistance of his people that the Republic army led by General Kenobi desired to exploit. Landing several thousand leagues of the ruins of the capital, Llantg’ Sala, the Republic battle cruisers spilled out their contents of commanders and troops. Away from main concentration of the CLONE’s armies, the Republic filled the isolated wastelands with new life and light as the huge armoured tanks and troop carriers disembarked. It was Obi-wan’s intention to divide the army into three sections; to surround the enemy and cut off reinforcements. Leading each section of the Republic army would be a Jedi commander and their padawan.  
Before each group left on their separate mission, General Kenobi gathered them together in the shadow of a troop carrier. “Anakin and I will take the route to the east, towards the City of Llantg’ Sala,” he began as they clustered around the holomap generated onto the ground. “Hedi, you and Brynx volunteered to take the northern route through the jungles. Alayhan and Pitarwa will take the western route through the wastelands. We will reconvene in time two leagues from Llantg’ Sala, by then hopefully we will have located the whereabouts of the settlers.”  
“Do we have an idea of how many may be out there?” asked Alayhan.  
“No, it could be anything from fifty to five thousand,” replied Obi-wan, “intelligence was vague about actual numbers.”  
“And the Jedi sent to relieve the siege?” Hedi Junnan played nervously with the one of the crystals in her hair. “What of their whereabouts?”  
“All the Council would tell is that they disappeared without a trace,” replied Anakin, “but it’s assumed that they are still alive.”  
“Master Yoda did not feel his connection to them was severed,” added Obi-wan, “but we need to find out what happened here. Master Windu wishes us to try to find their homing beacons if we can.”  
“Surely that is as impossible as trying to find a lightsaber in a nest of gundarks?” frowned Alayhan, not appreciating the Council’s tendency to piggyback their missions on top of the needs of the war.  
“That is not so impossible,” Obi-wan risked a small smile, “if you’re called Anakin Skywalker.”  
“It was an accident,” said Anakin by way of explanation, as several pairs of eyes turned in his direction, “and no, it isn’t something I’d recommend.”  
“Well, we’ll leave you in charge of doing the impossible, shall we Anakin?” smiled Hedi Junnan, warming to his humour.  
“That’s it then,” said Obi-wan breezily, turning off the holomap. “I suggest we get moving as soon as possible, the troops are already in position. May the Force be with us.”

“Master!” Anakin called out to Obi-wan. “Come and look at this.”  
They had been marching for days and so far had not found any evidence of settlements or settlers, only endless wastelands of scorched earth. All living things seemed to have been incinerated, even those that feasted on carcasses and scraps curiously absent, from the tiniest insect to the largest beings. Vegetation was struggling into existence after the ravages of the army but it was patchy and barely enough to sustain life. Neither had they encountered any of the CLONE; it seemed as if they too had abandoned the area immediately they had annihilated it.  
Leaving the huddle of troops to discuss their next move, Obi-wan hurried over to where Anakin was crouched over a patch of the scrubby ground. He was pulling at something half embedded in the cloying soil, something metallic. “What have you got there?”  
“I don’t know,” grunted Anakin, panting as he tried to tug the object loose, “whatever… it is it’s… stuck fast.”  
“Here, let me help.” Obi-wan reached down and grabbed what looked like a handle although it was covered in enough soil to be something else entirely. Both he and Anakin heaved and pulled in unison, and slowly the thing worked its way out of the ground until suddenly it decided to pop out throwing the two Jedi to the ground in confusion.  
Getting up, Anakin didn’t even wipe away the soil that covered him so excited he was with the discovery. “Look Master, it’s some kind of droid.” It was roughly spherical in shape, with what looked like a large dark eye in the centre; two smaller eyes either side. It was emblazoned with red and white markings.  
Obi-wan had got used to Anakin’s fascination with machines but remained unimpressed, “Well, what does it do?”  
Anakin turned it over in his practised hands. “This looks like some kind of photoreceptor here,” he pointed to the eye, “and here’s where the antenna should…”  
Something clicked and whirred inside the droid, prompting Anakin to drop it. As they watched, part of the droid unfolded to form two extensors, its central antenna rising from the centre of its ‘head.’ The larger eye blinked and seemed to be focusing itself; Anakin saw himself reflected in it for a moment before he suddenly realised what it was for. Jumping up, he had drawn his lightsaber and brought it crashing down on the droid before anyone else could react.  
Obi-wan stared at him as the now useless droid fizzed and sparked, “What did you do that for? It might have been useful.”  
“Useful for getting us traced by the CLONE.” Breathing heavily, Anakin cursed himself for not recognising what it was sooner. “It’s a seeker droid of some kind.”  
“A seeker droid?” Obi-wan experimentally kicked the heap of metal; it collapsed into its component parts.  
“Surveillance and detection,” Anakin replaced his lightsaber at his belt, “the CLONE used them on their ships. But the ones they used were much smaller than this.”  
“And they buried it in the ground…?”  
They headed back over to where the troops were beginning to bed down for the night; already the sun was sinking towards the horizon, enormous against the barren wastelands.  
“Rather than keep troops here, I suppose.” Anakin wondered if they should move on.  
“I think we’ll stay here for the night,” said Obi-wan, understanding his concerns but aware of the practical implications of moving an already settled army. “We could have passed a number of these droids, they may know our whereabouts already. But at least we can be ready for them.”  
“Then we should at least keep watch,” suggested Anakin as they collected the soggy mess that served as rations. It looked even less appetising then the slop that they insisted was nutritional food in the Temple.  
“Thank you for volunteering Anakin.” Grinning, Obi-wan took a seat next to the Commander of the troops, Elinus Preux, to discuss strategy whilst Anakin fervently wished he had kept his mouth shut.

In the deep, dark depths of the soil that lay beneath a twisted tangle of undergrowth and fallen stone, darkness was brewing. For a series of cavernous chambers existed unknown beneath ancient ruins, connected by long, dank corridors that dripped endlessly with moisture. Abandoned for years, these caverns were stirring again, the halls of silence now echoing with voices and the hum of the lightsaber.  
Sith Lord and thorn in the side of the Jedi Council, the noble and irrepressible Count Dooku raised his lightsaber. “Ready to be put through your paces young lady?”  
Across the cavern, pacing impatiently on the roughly hewn floor, she almost snarled in reply, “Of course.”  
Dooku chuckled. “Don’t be too over-eager, my dear. Anger can drive you but it is an emotion easily exploited by the Jedi. Remember Asajj, your passions can help you but don’t let them consume you.”  
Her skin deathly pale against the sinuous blood-red robes she wore, Asajj Ventruss regarded him with slight puzzlement. “Master, surely our passions enable us to amplify our power?” she asked huskily, “That is why the Jedi fear their emotions so, yes?”  
“Yes, in many respects that is true,” conceded the Count, his icy demeanour a subtle contrast to the fervour of his young pupil. “Passion is an asset. But you must not be in the position where you allow your passions to completely control you. Remember your training. Heed that awareness. The Jedi will be waiting for you to make the mistake. You have to ensure that they make it first.”  
“Yes, Master.” She was eager to face the enemy. Although she readily embraced the offer he presented to her, she was in no position to know how Dooku was manipulating her; he had kept her in the darkness for so long, deprived her of companionship, kept her in a state of continual fear and anxiety that had slowly, patiently been converted into desperate hatred and loathing. This hatred was now directed at the Jedi. Darker practices were hinted at; a long scar ran down the crown of her scalp beneath the hood, the dark hair only just starting to grow back. She was subject to dreams of agonising intensity. But any misgivings were suppressed beneath the overriding force of her hatred.  
Dooku’s crowning achievement was Asajj Ventress. For him she was the beginning of his own revenge against the Jedi; the dark heart of an army of Dark Jedi, bent to his will. Already he had plans to recruit others, other Jedi who were disillusioned or struggled with the training and had sought Dooku out. For he had been a Jedi once and he understood completely the attractions of the dark side. It was easier to convert those who were disillusioned or struggled with the training. Like Gulnar Loothe and Bibbi Yun, two arrogant Jedi sent earlier to assess the situation on Raxus Prime. First they had been trained in the arts of the Dark side. They had strength certainly, and the will to power was strong. But he found much of their Jedi training to be sloppy. Since he had left, combat training had definitely gone downhill. He had not been impressed at all.  
“You are too frenzied,” he said critically to Asajj as he overpowered her finally, “you lose your focus and you will let your opponent, if they are cunning enough, to win. Do not think that your mere appearance will distract them.”  
“I don’t presume,” began Asajj angrily, sheathing the beam of her lightsaber.  
“Oh but you do,” insisted Dooku, silencing her with a stern look. “But do not think I am here to only criticise you. You are certainly a bundle of energy, but you need to give it direction. Anyway, that is enough combat training for the moment. Your skills are honing well, I believe you are ready for your first assignment.”  
“I am most honoured Master,” she said. “What assignment would this be?”  
“An intelligence report has indicated that a force of Republic troops have landed on Raxus Prime. Led by a team of Jedi.”  
“Master?” She looked at him eagerly then, was it to be her initiation?  
“It will be your duty to destroy one of them. A young Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker. Only then will you be strong enough to become a Sith.”

It was a clear night. Above the solid dark line of the horizon, unblemished by tree, building or mountain, stretched the unfathomable sky scattered with immeasurable stars. Anakin gazed upon it; the beauty to him was the wonder of its unknown depths, knowing it stretched on forever and ever in the endless reaches of cold space. There was no end and no beginning, a seeming chaos of life and death as stars were born and died, systems came into being, others faded away, galaxies spun their streaming arms into the bleakness. It was a terrible beauty that no being could ever hope to understand or hope to control. It was not long after that Obi-wan came to relieve him from the task and he had settled down beneath the swathe of sky to sleep, wrapped snugly in his cloak, when the dreams started.

“Are you alright Anakin?” Obi-wan waved to him as he walked over. “I thought you’d be sleeping.”  
Stumbling over to where his Master was sitting, Anakin rubbed his sore eyes, “I’m done with sleep.”  
“Another vision?” Obi-wan looked at him sympathetically as Anakin visibly flinched.  
“Yes,” said Anakin flatly. He took a seat next to him, pulling his cloak about him tightly.  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Most of the dream was hazy now and he grasped at the slippery images in his mind, “All I remember clearly was a voice.”  
“What did this voice say?”  
“Find me you must for I am your doom.”  
Even Obi-wan felt the chill in the air. “Did you recognise the voice?”  
“No, it was strange, bestial even.” Anakin tried to recall as much as possible about its nuances, “And I think it was female.”  
“What made you think that?”  
“Just a feeling.”  
“Whoever it was, it reminds us we must be careful,” said Obi-wan, unsure as to what he could say. He was certain that Anakin would not want a repetition of the Jedi teachings, but he did not like to see his pupil so subdued. “Why don’t you sit with me for a while?”  
“So you can bore me into falling asleep?” he smiled sheepishly, unable to let the possibility of a joke go to waste.  
Obi-wan was feeling sanguine and his comment passed him by, “We all must have our uses.”  
Anakin and Obi-wan eventually whiled away the rest of the night chatting around a variety of subjects. It did not accomplish Obi-wan’s objectives, Anakin became too animated by discussion to want to fall asleep, but he hoped he had taken the young man’s mind away from his troubles.

As the troops started to stir in the half-light of the dawn, Obi-wan consulted with Anakin as to their next move. It was two days solid march to the capital so both decided it was best to press on. Communications from Masters Junnan and Alayhan suggested that nearly all strands of the army were in position. Only Hedi Junnan had met some resistance from the CLONE but that had been easily dealt with.  
“Where are all the troops that our intelligence indicated?” asked Anakin, slightly troubled as to the quality of the information they had received.  
“I imagine they are concentrated on the city,” began Obi-wan.  
“Or still watching us,” finished Anakin.  
Obi-wan looked at Anakin sharply, “That’s a possibility. But reconnaissance indicated no enemy activity in this area.”  
“General Kenobi!” A Republic commando approached, saluting smartly to both Jedi, “the army is ready to move.”  
“Very good Commander,” Obi-wan indicated on the hologram their position and subsequent movement, outlining in detail the course they were to take to the capital.  
Anakin listened closely as Obi-wan traced their course but something nagged him at the back of his mind, telling him that this route was bound to take them into danger. “Master,” he said deciding to listen to his doubts and abruptly interrupting Obi-wan, “may I suggest we take a different route?”  
“If you must Anakin.” Using his instinct, Anakin examined the map for a moment before tracing out on the hologram a much longer and more meandering route.  
Obi-wan looked at him dubiously, “That will take far too long, we would have to re-coordinate our efforts with the other two armies and they might reach the capital before us…”  
“It would take moments to inform them of the change of plan,” insisted Anakin, unable to shake the feeling that the CLONE already knew where they were.  
“With respect Sir,” said the Commando; “it will defeat the aim of a surprise attack on the capital if we take the route you propose. And that is the target of our operation here.”  
“I agree,” said Obi-wan, deciding to take the quickest route, “we want this over with quickly.”  
“But Master…”  
“There is no time for this now, Anakin,” Obi-wan turned off the hologram and made to follow the Commando, “if you had objections to our route you should have made them days ago.”  
Frustrated, Anakin agreed that his decision was final. However, he was unable to shake the feeling that they were making a terrible mistake.

The long line of refugees snaked in and around the hastily erected tent, a seemingly never-ending chain of beings, each clutching in their hands a meagre bowl. Some carried squalling babies, clutched tight to soothe their tears; others held children by the hand as they shuffled along. Others were bent over, representatives of many species and cultures identifiable by their appearance or their clothing. Stretched across the flat plain, as far as the eye could see, was a community of tents, around which more were loitering or waiting for friends and relatives, refugees too ill or wounded to move far. Washing flapped in the breeze, children played around the lines and poles; it would almost have homely if it were not at the fringes of the war zone.  
Straightening her back, Padmé waited until the empty container of gloopy meal was swapped for a full one. Her neck and shoulders ached from stooping over, doling out the meagre rations for every refugee that held out their bowl. However, she reasoned at least she had a home to go back to. The misery and resignation in the faces of the adults that passed before her, the tearful countenances of the children, moved her heart greatly. These people needed more help than she could give them, more than the Republic was currently offering them. It was a situation that she knew she would have to bring to light in the Senate once she returned. As she waited, she looked over to where Siri Tachi watched over proceedings to one side of the tent opening. They shared a weary smile; although Padmé had been concerned at first when the Council had insisted she take with her a Jedi escort, particularly because the Jedi were already stretched across the Galaxy, she welcomed Siri’s company. Some female company amongst the ranks of male troops.  
“Here, my lady.” The republic trooper, minus his helmet, delivered another container, already opened and the meal sloshed about inside.  
“Thank you.”  
“It doesn’t look much better than what we get,” murmured the trooper as she started to dish out spoonfuls to the starving refugees, their eyes barely lit with anything but the pain of their suffering.  
“It has all the necessary nutrients,” replied Padmé, feeling the ache return to her back as she bent down. “So it’s probably better than most of the food we get on Coruscant.”  
“Shame about the colour,” he pulled a face at the grey, unappetising mess as it slopped into another bowl, “anyway, let me know when you require a fresh lot, my lady.”  
“I will, thank you.” She turned back to the young girl stood before her; unlike many of the other children she was not crying. Instead she had a curious smile on her face. Padmé smiled back. Her dark curly hair reminded her of her sister’s daughter, Pooja, and she felt her heart wrench in remembrance of home. “There you go.”  
“Noy sheeta,” lisped the girl politely, her eyes shining with a strange intensity. She did not move immediately but stared at the senator, a message poised on her small mouth. “Da terna… da terna ne moy sheda…”  
Padmé looked at her in wonder, the spoon poised in the air. There was something about the girl’s eyes that reminded her so much of Anakin’s, the way they seemed to look not at her, but into her…  
“…moy sheda nen curpra...”  
“Nen shuta,” an older lady, perhaps the girl’s mother, next in line, pushed the girl out the way and held her own bowl out. “Gud helano ne moyda,” she continued to yell, as Padmé doled out the slop, “ne moyda no bonre.” But the girl was still staring at Padmé intently and only a harsh slap around her head sent her scurrying away finally.  
“Please, it’s alright,” said Padmé, eager to find out more, but the queue was continually moving and soon both the mother and the child were lost in amongst the crowds. Still the child’s eyes haunted her and she barely noticed the faces of those who passed her, mechanically filling the bowls.  
“Strong in the Force was that child.”  
Siri’s quiet voice startled her and most of the spoonful she held splattered onto the ground. “Oh dear,” Padmé hastily took another spoonful, filling the bowl and ignoring the split puddle on the floor. It would soon be licked up by one of the planet’s varied creatures.  
“I’m sorry I startled you,” Siri too looked flustered.  
“It’s alright, I was thinking of that child’s eyes,” replied Padmé, trying to smile as individuals filed past, “they were mesmerising.”  
Siri looked over to where the child was being pulled away through the ranks of tents by her mother, the dark hair bouncing upon her shoulders, “Do you know what she said to you?”  
“No, I don’t.” She had not been at the camp long enough to fully understand the local dialect.  
“She told you to be careful.”  
Padmé tried to concentrate on what she was doing, not wishing to spill more of the precious foodstuff, “To be careful?”  
“She said that they want to capture you. The dark men.”  
The spoon hesitated slightly on its journey towards the bowl, wavering in the air. But then it seemed to recover and deposited its share of slop.  
Siri was thoughtful. “The Force sometimes gives glimpses of the future to those who are open to it.”  
For Padmé it was not such a leap of the imagination, “Glimpses that can come true.”  
“If we let them.” Siri was looking at her curiously. “You do not seem surprised?”  
“Anakin told me a little about his visions,” said Padmé carefully, not wishing to reveal too much about her connection to the young Jedi. “They seemed a torment to him, though, rather than something positive.”  
“Oh yes, I forgot that you are more familiar with our ways than most.” Siri fingered the omnipresent lightsaber at her belt, “The problem with visions through the Force is that they often do not make any sense until after the event. I have only had one myself, and it left me feeling rather impotent.”  
“I imagine,” frowned Padmé, thinking it a strange and terrible gift that promised one enlightenment but only really delivered disappointment.  
“As much as I do not wish you to worry unnecessarily, my lady, I will go and ensure that security is notified of this incident,” continued Siri, feeling anxious, “They are used to Jedi and their eccentric concerns.”  
“Thank you Siri.” She watched briefly as the Jedi left the tent and headed over to where Captain Typho was standing, chatting with security.  
“Please.” The aged woman held the bowl aloft, trembling in her wrinkled hands.  
Concentrate! Padmé admonished herself and went back to spooning out the meal.

'Anakin, come back!'  
His Master’s voice was still ringing in his ears; never before had he heard him so angry. It was a crazy strategy; how could he have thought it would lead to a successful outcome? But he couldn’t ignore the feelings deep in his gut that propelled him onwards, that convinced him to fight his way through the densely packed troops, falling to his lightsaber to the right, to the left. He saw her, glimpsed in the distance. A flash of crimson… and she was away, he could hear the engine roaring. Not to be outdone, he seized his chance, leaping onto the back of the next speeder that passed him, wrestling with its occupant until he was its sole passenger. Scattering troops as he swung around in a lop-sided arc, pressing his foot down and streaking away after his vanishing quarry.  
'Anakin! I command you to come back!'  
Opening the throttle, ignoring any last qualms he still had, Anakin pushed the speeder almost to its limit, the roar of the engine drowning out every other sound. In the far distance he could see his quarry, a crimson signal goading him onwards. Taking him further and further away from his Master, away from his duty… But he couldn’t let the Sith escape. 

Retreated to a place of safety, a slight hill incongruous against the uniform flatness, Obi-wan surveyed the raging battle. It was still a concern to him that they had not had any forewarning of the appearance of the CLONE army that faced the Republic troops below. They had seemed to come from nowhere; a dark line on the horizon their first indication that trouble was ahead of them. Advancing towards them, the front line of CLONE troops on speeders; at their head a vision in black armour and crimson. A warrior-female, a Sith distinguishable by the red light of the laser-sword she whirled around her head as she yelled her battle-cry. Yet at the foremost of his mind was the reaction of his padawan. What did Anakin think he was doing? They had been over time and time again the need to obey orders, the importance of not jeopardising the cause of all in the pursuit of personal glory. And what had he done? Exactly as Obi-wan had told him not to – all those years of training and what had they been for? If it had not been for Qui-Gon’s dying insistence, his own promise spilled tremulously from his lips, would he have given up? No, he would not. For despite the challenge he presented, Anakin was undoubtedly brave. Even he, when he had seen the Sith before them, spitting hatred and calling wrath upon them, had been taken aback. Never before had a Sith appeared so fearsome, so bent on destruction as this female. But Anakin had not flinched. He had leapt forward to meet the attack that surely would have slaughtered their first ranks, sending the dark warrior’s lightsaber spinning into the sky. As troops had clashed in an almighty cacophony, he had kept the Sith in his sights, disappearing into the melee, Obi-wan trying to keep up with him. Instead of attacking she was drawing him further and further into the battle, evading him, taunting him. It was Anakin she was after, he was her quarry, and he had stumbled into her trap. Even as she escaped, Obi-wan had called to him, tried to inject some caution into his turbulent mind. But Anakin did not hear him through the tumult– or did not want to hear him - and he too vanished as Obi-wan became more and more caught up in the fighting around him. The last he had seen of Anakin was when he had wrestled one of the troopers to the ground, stolen his speeder and zoomed off after the Sith. Now he was smaller than a speck on the horizon, glimpsed through a view-screen.

Asajj flew across the barren wastelands, her cloak flapping crazily in the breeze as she urged her speeder onwards. Turning round, she smiled with satisfaction when she saw the young Jedi still trailing her; he was barely discernible from this distance except for the smear of brown so fast was his movement. Young fool… do you think you can vanquish me? Before her, the landscape was rapidly changing; no longer scorched and blackened earth but instead the tangled jungles that spread into the far distance, across the river and climbing high in altitude into the mountains. The sun hung low in the sky, bloated and golden, shafts of light reflected from the snow on the highest peaks. Still she rode onward but her speeder was running out of fuel and she knew it would not be long before Anakin closed the gap. So she turned her bike towards the jungles.  
Here and there dead and dying trees, blackened and their leaves torn, indicated the extent of the CLONE’s destruction. But evidently even the CLONE had been able to penetrate far into the tangled undergrowth and still the bulk of the trees stood proud, their canopy casting the floor beneath them into thick, palpable shade. Asajj’s bike zipped through the undergrowth, dodging trunks, diving under fallen branches. The whine of the engine disturbed wildlife as she passed; simian creatures scurried further into their leafy haunts, colourful birds were sent flapping into the upper levels their eerie cries echoing all around. Peace descended, only to be shattered again as Anakin’s bike roared past, sending the same creatures into anxious tizzies.

Water was dripping onto her face. Bitterly cold, it splashed onto her cheek and dribbled down the side of her face causing her to shiver involuntarily.  
“Oh.”  
Padmé opened her eyes with a start. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, high above her she saw light filtering down through an iron grill, although the long trailing lengths of some plant hanging down obscured even that scant light. The plant glistened with moisture; obviously it had been raining. Sitting up, the Senator groaned as pains in her back made themselves felt. Looking around, she saw that she was contained in a dank chamber, hewn out of the rock. Aside from the grill above her there seemed to be no entrance or exit to the prison, it was her only link with the daylight, and with the outside world. The floor beneath her was cold and wet and she felt nothing but dismay for the sequence of events that had landed her in this difficulty. The child had been right; someone had been after her and they had struck just as she was heading towards her tent for the night. There had been a fierce struggle; Captain Typho had been terribly wounded, even Siri had been forced to lay down her weapon when the chief protagonist had held a wicked-looking knife to Padmé’s throat. Then they had thrown a fabric cover over her head, carried her away from the camp, tied up and bundled her into the back of some transport. And now she was stuck underground with little hope of escape. She wondered what they would do with her, whoever it was that had captured her. It must be something to do with Count Dooku, she thought to herself angrily, no one except the CLONE would have the audacity to affect such a travesty as abduct a senator.  
Suddenly she heard voices from above; peering upwards she saw a dark shape crouching over the grill. There was the rough clang of metal as bolts were drawn back; then with an almighty squeaking the grill was pushed backwards falling with a tremendous clatter.  
Climbing shakily to her feet, Padmé moved backwards as a ladder composed of battered wood slats and frayed rope was thrown down. It filled her with little confidence that it was suitable for use.  
“Up!” yelled a voice from above, definitely male.  
Swallowing her nerves, Padmé began to climb, the rope ladder swaying alarmingly with every step she took.

Peering around the vast trunk of the tree in front of him, Anakin surveyed his immediate environment; the jungle was enveloped in a green haze, lush and verdant. After a brief spell of intense rain, which had plastered the young Jedi’s hair to his forehead and soaked his robes, the canopy and undergrowth were glimmering damply, a slight mist obscuring the further reaches of the jungle. Feeling a drop of cold water trickle down his neck he looked up. Above him the canopy stretched tall, leaf layer upon leaf layer. From within the dense vegetation he could hear the calls of hidden creatures. It would have been beautiful had he not been focused on finding his quarry. A rustle in the leaves beside his foot caused him to place his hand on his lightsaber; but it was only a small creature, bedraggled grey fur and a long, curling tail, emerging from the bush. It sat on its hind legs for a moment, its small black, iris-less eyes regarding him curiously. Relaxing, Anakin dropped to his haunches holding out his hand. “Hello little friend.”  
The creature tipped its head to one side, weighing up whether he was friend or foe. To encourage it, Anakin made little clucking noises with his tongue. Scampering over, it stopped an inch away from his hand, reaching out with its paw towards his fingers.  
Even if a Jedi like Anakin relaxed, it did not mean he ever let his guard down. There was something about the stillness that caused him to freeze. It was then that Asajj attacked.  
As the Sith headed for him, a chaos of malevolence and of crimson, screaming at the top of her lungs, Anakin was already igniting his lightsaber. As the little creature scampered away in fright, and she swung her lightsaber towards him, he met it with his blade of blue. Sparks flew around them from the force of the collision.  
“Who are you?” Summoning his strength, Anakin pushed her away.  
Angrily, the Sith came at him again, his strength more than matched but her un-countenanced fury. “I will be your doom!” she shouted, face contorted with wrath.  
It was the voice from his dream! Immediately on the attack, Anakin forced her backwards, cuts and thrusts seeming to flow intuitively as they battled it out amongst the trees and the fauna. Hard-pressed, the Sith leapt backwards, at the same time reaching out with her hand. As Anakin moved towards her, a branch dislodged from the nearby tree was flung towards him. He only just managed to deflect it with his lightsaber before another branch and another flew towards him, the Sith clambering up the nearest tree whilst he was kept busy defending himself. But soon it was too much and the next branch struck him hard on the forehead, knocking him to the ground with the force of its momentum.  
Watching impassively, Asajj headed upwards into the higher canopies, using the branches to propel her lithe body.  
Getting to his feet, Anakin emitted a series of curses. Already he could feel the warm blood dripping down his forehead where the branch had caught him, and the Sith had disappeared. Breathing deeply to steady his nerves, he reached out with his feelings, searching for her tendrils on the Force; it was not long before he caught the burning traces of her anger cut like long rents in its energy. They filled his head with her fanatical determination, the intensity of her rage searing into him until he could take no more and he fell to his knees, clutching his head tightly. Then the voices began… Young fool, you think you can ignore the hate inside you, give into it, give into it… feel your anger, give it existence, allow it to live… you think you can feign ignorance of the darkness that lurks within you… no, it’s only a shadow, it can’t be real… I am your doom…  
Eventually, the voices faded away, leaving only the dripping of water, the stirring of the leaves as the breeze weaved through them. Slowly, Anakin got to his feet feeling as though he had been punched in the head so forceful had been the images and feelings. But he knew enough of her intentions and, grabbing his lightsaber from where he had dropped it, Anakin set off in pursuit.

Holding her chin proudly aloft, Padmé regarded angrily the group holding her custody. After she had been roughly dragged from the prison, the two men who had brought the ladder, their faces hidden beneath hoods, had tied her hands together and blindfolded her again. They had led her across rough ground – she could tell she was still outside because she could feel the wind on the back of her neck – and inside where it had become considerably warmer. When they finally removed her blindfold she found herself standing in the centre of a large, drab chamber decorated in fading scenes from some long-forgotten history. Around the walls stood heavily armoured troops, recognisable as belonging to the CLONE. More astonishing, to the front of her was stood what looked like a Jedi – but surely it couldn’t be? Yet there was no mistaking the Jedi robes, similar to those Siri had been wearing although subtly different, and the lightsaber at the man’s belt. He was young, not a Jedi she recognised, dark hair curling about a handsome face. Yet there was a hardness in his eyes that no Jedi she knew exhibited.  
“What do you want with me?” Padmé was determined to get the first word in, to show that she was not afraid.  
Gulnar Loothe regarded her with contempt, “Can’t you guess?”  
The slightest of frowns flickered across the Senator’s features. “You’re taking me to Dooku.”  
“So the rumours of your intelligence are not exaggerated,” Loothe came over to her, expecting her as he might expect an attractive plant or tasty morsel. “Pity you weren’t intelligent enough not to get yourself caught, Senator.”  
“It’s monstrous,” complained the Senator, eying him with disdain, “I am here to minister badly needed supplies to victims of war, a neutral…”  
“You are a Senator of the Republic,” interrupted Gulnar, stopping just behind her. “In what way does that make you neutral?” Reaching out he touched her coiled hair gently with his fingers.  
Shuddering under his touch, Padmé kept her eyes facing forwards. “You are a Jedi, in what way does that make you the enemy?”  
He began to unclip the fasteners in her hair, slowly as if he were a lover rather than her captor, “Dooku was also a Jedi.”  
“So you have turned from the Order as he did?” His fingers were caressing her hair and she felt that she might vomit. “Then you are not only an enemy but also a traitor.”  
“Oh no no no. Dooku has opened my eyes to the truth,” continued Gulnar, his voice curiously dreamy as he unfastened the last hair-clip, watching with intense satisfaction as her hair fell down in waves about her shoulders. “The Jedi are blinded, they cannot see that they have become inflicted by the very corruption that they sought to destroy. They are as bloated and inefficient as the rest of the Republic.”  
“That’s a lie,” spat Padmé.  
“Then why did the Jedi Council order the army long before it was decided in the Senate that an army was necessary?” His hands were in her hair, lost in the long dark curls, “they desired this war, you must see it.”  
“Why would the Jedi desire war?” Padmé bit her lip; it was taking all her concentration to ignore the caresses of this hideous man, a perversion of tenderness!  
“To restore their failing reputation,” said Loothe as if it was obvious. He pressed himself against her, whispering in her ear, “They will do anything to convince that they are still a force to be reckoned with. Even plunging the galaxy into war, so they can come to the rescue of the very citizens they endanger with their selfish pride.”  
“I don’t believe you.” If only her hands weren’t tied behind her back, but it was impossible to even try to loosen them. “The CLONE are the real threat. Dooku has declared his intention to destroy the peace we have enjoyed for thousands of years by joining them. I think you’ll find he is the one who desires this war.”  
“Quite the hothead aren’t you?” Gulnar’s lips pressed against the exposed skin of her neck, “and delicious too…”  
“Gulnar!”  
Twisting her head, Padmé saw another Jedi had entered the chamber. He looked older and sterner than Gulnar, who immediately moved away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” Bibbi Yun glared at the younger Jedi as he approached them.  
“I was interrogating…”  
“Enjoying yourself, weren’t you?” ranted Yun, striking him smartly across the face.  
Rubbing his cheek, Gulnar protested, “I was trying to break her.”  
“That will be Count Dooku’s enjoyment, not yours.” The Jedi turned his attention to Padmé, taking her chin in his hand and regarding her with interest. “So you are the fabled Senator Amidala? I expected someone much older.”  
“Shows how much you know,” muttered Gulnar, disgruntled.  
“Be quiet,” Yun looked at Padmé. “I imagine Gulnar has told you why you are here?”  
“Not really,” Padmé returned his stare boldly, “he was more interested in telling me lies about the Jedi.”  
“Poor thing, she thinks they are lies.” Yun missed the sarcasm implicit in her reply. “Well my dear, let me assure you that they are most certainly not lies. And once the rest of our comrades become privy to the truth that the Order conceals from them, they too will be more than willing to join Dooku’s crusade to cleanse their evil from the Galaxy.”  
Padmé thought of Anakin, of Obi-wan and of Siri. Jedi like they would never lose their belief in the Republic, “You’re mistaken.”  
“Such confidence you have,” Yun drew his fingers across her cheek, then abruptly let her go. “Misplaced I would say. Once Dooku has persuaded you, I am certain that you will be more than willing to join him too.”  
“Never,” said Padmé boldly, shaking her head, “besides he already tried that.”  
“Yes, on Geonosis he tried…”  
Yun’s face was very close to hers, and she backed away until she collided with Gulnar Loothe who had suddenly ended up back behind her. He restrained her with a hand on her shoulder.  
“…But this time he will.” Yun smiled unpleasantly, “Oh yes, Senator Amidala. I think you greatly underestimate the persuasive powers of Count Dooku.”

The tension in the Force was gaining strength as Anakin approached the remains of a stone structure half-encased in trailing lengths of foliage. His hand on his lightsaber, he edged forward cautiously. Stretching out with his feelings he sensed that the structure rambled across a broad area; at the highest point was a platform extending far upwards into the tree canopy, the top hidden from view.  
“I feel the darkness within you…”  
Without warning, the Sith dropped from the trees, landing lightly on her feet across the clearing. She stared intently at the young Jedi, “…they would teach you to ignore it. I can teach you to embrace it.”  
Warily, Anakin took his lightsaber from his belt. “I don’t need lessons from a Sith.”  
“You are not so oblivious to it, Jedi.” Asajj did not move, her hands folded away inside her scarlet cloak. “You know it brings great power to those who are not afraid to wield it.”  
Calmly he regarded his adversary. Her skin was pale, so white as to be deathly. A livid scar sliced her shaved skull almost in half, extending downwards to her eyebrow. The eyes were malevolent, a curious shade of amber burning with cruel intensity. All this he took in less time than it took him to blink. It meant he was ready for Asajj’s attack. A crimson blur, she leapt towards him, igniting her sword simultaneously. Double-bladed, it sliced keenly through the air meeting Anakin’s blade with such shuddering force that sent shockwaves along his arm. But he held firm and was soon on the attack. Yet he was hard-pressed against the sustained fury of the Sith.  
As they fought, Asajj taunted him, telling him she could sense the darkness within him, that he was no different to her in so many ways. Why are you a slave to the Jedi? The voice in his mind was soft, seductive; they seek to curb your power. Join me and we can unleash our power on the galaxy!  
Resisting the voice that seemed to infiltrate and dominate his mind, Anakin battled on. Focusing his determination to defeat the Sith menace, he executed a devastating series of moves which forced Asajj to retreat, snapping and snarling at him in anger. Flinging clumps of soil, rock, branch at the young Jedi in frustration, she used the diversion to climb and leap her way to the top platform. Bruised and battered by the storm of debris, Anakin chased after the elusive Sith. Scaling the ruins was harder than it looked; handholds crumbled as he sought to find purchase, leaving him scrabbling against the rough walls uselessly with his legs until he found the strength to push himself upwards. And then there were the rocks thrown by the Sith as she crouched at the top of the platform, watching him eagerly as he caught up with her. Stepping back from the edge, she waited until Anakin, with one last burst of energy, leapt from the wall and landed gracefully across from her, a structural gap in the platform leading straight down to the jungle floor between them. Ignoring the drop, Anakin launched himself at the Sith, coming at her again and again as she struggled to hold him back. They danced desperately on the platform, circling and parrying, trying to drive each other to submission. Fighting savagely; cut, thrust, cut, parry. Blade against blade, amber eyes full of malice meeting those of turbulent blue.  
Then, dodging backwards, Anakin stumbled on a loose chunk of rock. As he dropped his guard, Asajj seized her chance. Slicing downwards with her sabre she cut savagely into Anakin’s skin, tracing a line of pain from his forehead to his cheek. Crying out in agony, he swung his lightsaber angrily towards her. As his lightsaber grazed her ribs, she leapt backwards, landing inelegantly at the edge of the platform almost on her knees.  
“You belong to him now,” she gasped, staring at him, “behold the mark of the Sith!”  
Clutching his eye, the blood pouring down his face, Anakin shook his head, “I belong to no one!”  
“Surely you see it?” Asajj was still watching him warily. “You cannot avoid the Dark side forever.”  
“My destiny is to hold light and dark in balance,” Anakin said boldly, confident he could resist her. “I am nothing like you.”  
“Yet I feel your anger.” Her eyes narrowed, “Maybe if I told you the fate that will befall your Master? Maybe that would turn you?”  
“I’ll destroy you and myself first before you turn me,” he vowed. Raising his lightsaber high, he rushed towards her.  
“You are afraid,” As they circled each other, Asajj sensed he was closer and closer to releasing his anger, “you fear the darkness inside you. One day it will take you over, then nothing will stop you. Not even the Jedi, you’ll destroy them all to have its seductive power!”  
“I don’t think so!” Anakin had never felt more in control, meeting the rupture that the Sith created in the Force with a calm mind. There was nothing she could say that would turn him.  
With a cry she leapt towards him, their sabers crashing together with such ferocity, they flew backwards almost instantly. Landing heavily on the ground, Anakin forced himself back up and on the offensive. Summoning his energy, feeling his strength in the Force he flung himself at her, feeling her weakening as he forced her backwards with every stab of his sword. Finally he slammed his blade down so forcefully upon hers that it dropped from her hands, skittered across the platform and vanished into the dense undergrowth below them.  
It was a stark realisation to know of the moment of one’s death. Falling to her knees, energy spent, Asajj looked at Anakin imploringly.  
It happened so fast that Anakin barely remembered it afterwards. A moment as quick as his heartbeat. Following through with his saber, with a final burst of brilliance he flung himself forwards, it was only then as a desperate cry rose within her that he realised she was unarmed. Yet still his movement flowed, his lightsaber sweeping round with so much force that it pushed Asajj backwards from the edge of the platform, her amber eyes huge against the pale of her face staring into his. It was then that he saw the fires had gone.  
Wailing, she fell into the canopy, crashing through the many layers of foliage, her hands scrabbling for purchase but finding none. In the flicker of an eyelid she had disappeared from sight but still he could hear her macabre shriek until finally it stopped abruptly.  
A flock of birds rose from the lower canopy, their eerie cries echoing the demise of the Sith.  
Impassively Anakin stared downwards, breathing heavily as he realised that it was at an end. Collapsing to the ground, his leant his forehead against his knees, allowing the tears that fell from his eyes to cool his skin.

“Master Yun?” The aide sounded nervous.  
“What is it?” Yun had given up trying to aggravate the Senator; she seemed impervious to their attempts. Instead he was enjoying a late dinner with Gulnar. Padmé still stood in the centre of the room, only her resolve keeping her upright. She had been there for hours but the thought of resisting the attempts of the two mindless idiots in front of her to intimidate her kept her going.  
“Sir, we are hearing reports of a disturbance in corridor seventeen.”  
“What kind of a disturbance?” Yun barely looked up from the delicious morsel he was about to taste.  
“Of the Jedi kind,” said a definitely female voice.  
All eyes turned at once to the aide, who collapsed in a pile at the feet of Siri Tachi.  
“Get her!” Yun commanded Gulnar, grabbing his own lightsaber. Immediately blaster fire and smoke filled the room as the troopers opened fire on the interloper. Taking advantage of her surprise, Siri dispatched two of the guards before she was confronted with Gulnar Loothe, eager to try out his newfound powers on his former comrade.  
Galvanised by Siri’s appearance, Padmé had secreted herself behind one of the pillars at the edges of the chamber, starting to work on her bonds. Fortunately it seemed everyone had forgotten her in their attempts to subdue the Jedi. The last knot untied and… she was free. Immediately she set about looking for a blaster.  
“I’m not surprised at you Gulnar, falling for the lies of Dooku,” sneered Siri, facing her former comrade, “you always thought yourself to be above the rest of us.”  
“Why should I remain in the Order knowing I am better than their irrelevant teachings?” replied Gulnar, clearly struggling against the mastery of Siri as Dooku had predicted. “If the Jedi will not join us then they will be crushed!”  
Concentrating her efforts, Siri quickly deprived Gulnar of his hand, sending his lightsaber spinning across the room. Immediately he dropped to the floor, screeching in agony.  
“Shut up man!” Yun leapt towards the Jedi, his own sabre raised high.  
At that moment the door to the chamber swung open and troops swarmed in, their blasters at the ready.  
“Padmé!” Siri saw the Senator from the corner of her eye, crouched behind an upturned table, picking off the troopers as they tried to enter. “Get out of here!” Yun was more skilled than Gulnar and she was finding it harder to concentrate on what was happening around her.  
Anxious, Padmé cast about for a way to escape. Then she saw it; a window to her left. Aiming at the door controls, she obliterated them in an instant, the door slamming shut against the troops outside. It would not be long though before they broke through.  
Next it was the window; one blaster bolt was all that was needed to smash it into countless fragments. Looking over to Siri, she watched as the Jedi, in a seamlessly executed move, amputated the arms of her opponent leaving him lying helpless, in pain, next to his sobbing colleague.  
“Let’s get out of here,” Siri hurried over to Padmé, “good work.”  
Hearing a crashing noise behind them, they turned to see that the troops were blasting through the door; already it was raised several meters above the floor. Also, Yun was crawling towards a fallen blaster, intent on stopping them from escaping.  
“Quick!” Hoisting the Senator up, Siri helped her to climb out the window just as the door dissolved in a wreath of smoke. Turning, Siri deflected the laser fire that streamed towards them, “Senator, you must go.”  
Padmé was taking shots through the window, “I can’t leave you.”  
“Padmé please, go get help!” Siri glanced back at her, gave her a smile. The smoke was so thick in the room now that it was pouring out the window, “I’ll stay and cover you but get to safety!”  
Seeing that it was pointless to ignore the wishes of the Jedi, Padmé trusted that she knew what she was doing. “I’ll come back!” she promised and with a last parting shot, jumped down from the window.

Soon it was starting to rain; the cold water mingling with the dried blood caked onto his face, soaking him to the skin through his jerkin. Shattered by his experiences, Anakin did not know how long he had lain crouched on the platform, within the mist and the canopy. Other thoughts started to seep into his mind, remembering Obi-wan, the mission. Pulling himself together out of his torpor he climbed shakily to his feet, fighting the urge to look for the body of his adversary. She had to be dead; no-one could have survived such a fall.  
It took him a long while to climb back down to the floor of the jungle; his left arm was shaking so much as to be almost useless, the pain from his wounds caused misery every time he moved an inch to the next handhold in the crumbling wall. Yet he made it. Picking up his cloak from where it had fallen, scorched and blackened, he bound his various cuts and scrapes with fabric as best he could but the sodden fabric was barely enough to soak up the blood. He could do little about his face; still he could feel the blood welling, to trickle in a warm, thin stream to his chin. He tasted it on his lips, the strange metallic tang.  
There was a glinting in the undergrowth not far from the ruins that caught his eye, light playing on metal. Kneeling down, Anakin pushed aside the leaves to reveal the Sith’s lightsaber. Its hilt was blackened considerably, where he had scorched it with his blade. Without realising why, he reached forward to retrieve it, perhaps as a reminder of his mysterious adversary. Placing it on his belt along with his own, he crept away from the ruins.

It had been reasonably easy for Padmé to leave the building of her confinement; the window had led to a yard adjacent to the entrance gate. There were only minimal guards, it seemed as if all troops had been sent to contain the situation in the chamber she had just vacated. Picking them off one by one, Padmé dashed for the gatehouse. The gate of course was locked and she looked for a means of opening it. Entering into a small chamber on the left, she found herself in some kind of control room.  
“If only Artoo was here,” she muttered, casting her eye over the many buttons and outlets, their meanings written in a script she didn’t recognise.  
“Hands up!” The stern voice came from behind her.  
Turning round, Padmé saw it was another guard. She looked at him coyly as if she had been caught stealing fruit from a neighbour’s tree. “Me?”  
“Yes, you.” His blaster was trained on her chest. “Give me your weapon.”  
Keeping one arm raised, Padmé reached down to take her blaster from her belt; from outside there came a tremendous crashing sound. Distracted, the guard looked round and it was the moment that Padmé had been waiting for. Kicking out, she slammed the full force of her weight into the guard’s stomach. Groaning he collapsed to the ground; immediately Padmé thrust her blaster into his neck. “Would you be so kind as to let me out of here?”  
Not wishing to remain in the compound for a minute longer, the guard happily complied. Padmé did not fully trust his sudden acquiescence, keeping the blaster trained on him and kicking his weapon away into the dark recesses of the control room. When he had completed the necessary arrangements for her escape, she insisted that he came with her outside just in case. Keeping the blaster trained on him, Padmé only relaxed her guard when she had made it outside the gate and raced away along the road.  
I got away, she told herself smartly, that’s all that matters.  
It was only when she had been solidly running for a good while that she realised she had no idea which way she was headed. So far she had seen no indications of settlements or living beings aside from herself. It figured however; much of Illum had been devastated in wide-scale attacks and the refugee camps established across the continents were the remains of the communities that had once populated it. The only solution was to look for recognisable landmarks.  
It seemed that no one was following from the compound so she slowed down to a more manageable fast-paced walk. The area around the road was mostly flat, stretching far to the horizon where could be made out the beginnings of mountains. Once it had been farmed but now the fields were overgrown, the tall crops waving sadly in the breeze as a reminder of a once vibrant culture. As she walked along, here and there she saw the ruined remains of buildings, inevitably their roofs caved in or their walls demolished. Huge swathes of barren earth hinted at darker practices of war. As she tried to orient herself, Padmé recognised familiarities in the mountain range just glimpsed through the haze. Surely that was the mountain range that was visible from the camp? The more she thought, the more she was convinced that was so; the distance seemed likely, considering that her journey to the compound had taken quite a while. But despite her optimism, which gave the necessary burst of energy to start jogging again, there was the sinking feeling that it would take an inordinate amount of time to return unless she could find a transport from somewhere. Cursing her idiocy, why didn’t I think of that earlier?, she sped up, ignoring the protestations of her already burning lungs. 

“Master?”  
Pitarwa crouched over the prone body of her Master, offering water to his dry, cracked lips. For days she had been waiting, anxious days as the life slipped away from his wheezing lungs. She had patched him up as best she could, tearing strips of cloth from her trousers to bind the wounds that steadily leaked blood through his robes. But now even they were soaked through. Yet he would not allow her to move him, they had come there for a reason he had said. But even now that reason was fading in its importance.  
“Not… long now.” Alayhan’s voice was feeble.  
“Until what, Master?”  
“You’ll… see. Patience.”  
She proffered the water again, pleased to see that his lips opened to take the liquid, pouring it gently into his mouth. He coughed and she lessened the flow, holding his hand in an effort to will strength into him. Soon he had finished the water, his tongue searching for more moisture, licking the last vestiges from his lips.  
“I’ll get more,” picking up the water-skin, Pitarwa was getting up when she heard a crashing sound in the distance. Looking up she saw a group of birds fly upwards into the canopy.  
Alayhan smiled faintly. “He… he is coming.”  
“Who’s coming?” As Alayhan tried to sit up, she placed her hands on his shoulders, saying soothingly, “Try to rest, Master.” Her nerves were already on edge. Don’t be afraid she admonished herself. To make herself feel better she took her Master’s lightsaber and crouched over his body, waiting.  
“No…. weapon you… need,” gasped the wounded Jedi, clutching weakly at her robes.  
“Who is it?” They were getting closer; she could even hear gasps of breath, the snapping of twigs underfoot. Her hand tightened on the hilt.  
“Friend.”  
Wondering whom it could be, Pitarwa stood up. In the distance she could see a darker shape approaching through the quivering leaves, yet then she saw a glimpse of golden light and pale skin…  
“Anakin!”  
The young man stopped in his tracks as she came bounding towards him, “Pitarwa?”  
She flung herself into his arms, sobbing from happiness and terror.  
“What are you doing here?” For a moment he held her close, stroking her shaking shoulders. She was crying and gasping so much she could hardly talk and whilst he waited for her to calm down, he looked around for any sign of any troops, for Master Alayhan. Although there was none he sensed another presence strong in the Force nearby. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now.”  
“Master… Alayhan,” she managed to say, still pressed against him.  
“Where is he?”  
“He’s wounded.”  
Taking his hand, she led him quickly over to where Alayhan was laid amongst the leaves. The Jedi Master was deathly pale, his lips moving as if in speech but no sound emerged. His eyes were closed and there was the thick glimmer of sweat across his face.  
“Oh no,” said Anakin, crouching next to him. Quickly he surveyed him, seeing the improvised bandages tied around his wounds, already soaked with blood. “He’s feverish. Here,” handing Pitarwa the tattered remains of his cloak, he told her to make some strips out of it whilst he removed his top tunic and started to do the same. “What happened?”  
Pitarwa looked up, “We were ambushed in the jungle, we lost most of the troops. Master Alayhan said it was the CLONE but they…” she choked on her distress.  
“It’s alright.” So they had been caught in the trap too – a flame burned inside his heart. “The Force kept you safe.”  
“I thought we were going to die,” she whispered, prompting fresh tears to spill down her cheeks. “Will he live?”  
“Don’t worry, we’ll save him.” He spoke gently to allay her fears, then turned his attention to the Jedi Master. “Master Alayhan?”  
“Anakin?” His voice was weak, and his eyes opened only a fraction. “We were… waiting.”  
“We have to get you to safety,” he mopped the Jedi’s fevered brow, “do you think we can move you?”  
For an answer, Alayhan grabbed Anakin’s hand. “I’m dying, Anakin.”  
Startled by the bluntness of his reply, Anakin tried to argue, “Master I don’t believe…”  
“Don’t look at me like that,” struggling to speak, Alayhan even smiled, “I know… when I’m dying.”  
Across from them, Pitarwa bent her head lower, again the tears forming in her eyes.  
“You… can’t save me,” he continued, “you… will prolong… the end. That’s all.” Tears filled his kindly grey eyes, “Anakin… before I go I want you… to promise me… one thing.”  
He nodded, unable to decline the wishes of the Jedi Master who had shown him so much kindness when he had first entered the Temple, “I promise.”  
“Take… Pitarwa to the cave.” Gesturing in the distance, Anakin followed his gaze until he saw the beginnings of a ridge glimpsed within the trees. “Find… a crystal there you can. Her… first.”  
“I will, Master.”  
Alayhan gripped his hand tightly, “A… place of great… darkness it is. Careful… you must be. A test… for both… of you.”  
“A test?”  
“To face… the mirror,” whispered Alayhan, “to face… yourself.” He paused, “Go… quickly. Death will not… wait.”  
Still, Anakin insisted on moving him to a safer spot, buried deep within leaf cover and supported by the remains of their rough Jedi cloaks. Then, taking Pitarwa’s small hand in his, they made their way towards the cave.  
“He’ll be alright won’t he?” Pitarwa kept looking behind her.  
“Yes,” said Anakin, grasping her fingers tightly, “but you must concentrate. As Master Alayhan says, this will not be easy.” Especially since he was not at his full strength and the younger novice beside him was confused by sadness and fear.  
Before them rose the impregnable rock, more ancient than the trees that surrounded it. Within the rock, barely seen, was the mouth of the cave, a dark slash as if gouged out in anger by some long-forgotten god.  
“Something’s not right,” shivered Pitarwa, drawing closer to Anakin. “I feel cold.”  
The aura surrounding the cave was hard to ignore. “I feel it too.”  
She looked at him, her dark eyes wide with fear, “Anakin… I…”  
“Don’t be afraid,” he placed his arm around her shoulders and felt how they trembled, “whatever is in there, we’ll face it together.”  
His words echoed something Master Alayhan had once told her; to conquer your fear you have to face it… Taking a deep breath Pitarwa smiled, “I’m ready.”  
Hand in hand, they plunged into the darkness. It surrounded them immediately, so thick they could almost touch it. Fumbling at his belt, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, hoping it would be enough to illuminate their way. It revealed a mysterious world hidden beneath the forest; as they took the sloping path downward, they saw either side rock formations of fantastical shapes, glowing faintly in the weapon’s light. Pools of water collected at their base; within these pools bright sparkles caught the light, tiny crystals growing at the water’s fringes. Pitarwa gazed at them in rapture, thinking they were so beautiful. She went to touch one but Anakin pulled her back, “Not so fast.”  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s best not to touch anything until we are certain what it is,” he said more gently, “besides these are not right for a lightsaber.”  
“Oh,” she trotted along behind him. “How will we know what’s right?”  
“We’ll know,” he took her hand again, feeling unnerved. He could sense something living down here, something that scuttled in the darkness at the fringes of their path. “Stay close now.”  
She would have liked to look more closely at some of the formations; they were spectacular colours, ambers and reds, even blues. Some sprouted thickly from the cave roof, others spiralled thinly upwards from the floor. But she did not dare to leave Anakin’s side, not whilst she was weapon-less.  
They carried on deeper into the caves, the atmosphere becoming damper and damper until they could feel the moisture with every breath. The crystals were more abundant, clinging tight to the rocks, glistening as the mineral-heavy water dropped incessantly from the roof. Yet Anakin knew they were not deep enough, the crystals were barely luminous. They had not nearly enough power within them.  
“What’s that?” Clutching Anakin’s arm, Pitarwa squeaked in alarm.  
“What?” He gripped his lightsaber more tightly.  
“The shadow moved.” She didn’t let go.  
Casting the light of the saber in the shadow’s direction, Anakin saw nothing, “I can’t see anything.”  
From somewhere to the side of them came a loud squeal.  
Pitarwa almost jumped into the air, “There it is!”  
They inched along carefully, Anakin’s lightsaber before them roving ceaselessly. It was not so easy to manoeuvre with Pitarwa clutching him so tightly but he reasoned, he had commanded her to stay close. As they progressed further along, whatever it was in the cave with them did not deign to make an appearance.  
Pitarwa finally began to relax, “Maybe it’s shy?” she said.  
“I would think its more afraid of the lightsaber,” but Anakin was still wary. He could sense they were getting closer. They were not so afraid.  
“How will we know when we find the right crystal,” Pitarwa decided that talking would help to keep her spirits up.  
“We’ll know,” said Anakin, wincing as a droplet splashed down onto his exposed neck, “because they’ll be brightly lit. These,” he indicated the crystals around them, “are not strong enough to power a lightsaber.”  
“Did it take you long to find your crystal?”  
“Yes,” Anakin chuckled, remembering, “Master Obi-wan was not best pleased with me. I kind of caused him to be attacked by a swarm of mynocks I disturbed. But I wasn’t to know that they had made their nest right next to the crystal I wanted.”  
“It sounds like you and Master Obi-wan have a lot of fun together.”  
He grinned broadly, “I doubt Obi-wan would call it fun.”  
There was another sound to their left, a lower more guttural sound. Without warning, a creature launched itself at them both, legs akimbo. Pushing Pitarwa behind him, Anakin swiped the lightsaber where he sensed its body should be. It collapsed with a terrible squawk, sliced neatly in half, it’s legs scattering onto the ground in a pool of toxic ooze.  
“Urgh,” Pitarwa covered her nose at the dreadful stench emitting from the corpse. “What is it?” she mumbled through her sleeve.  
“I’ve never seen one before.” Its bloated, bulbous body was covered in thick, scaly hide and carried on six spindly legs. Two black eyes stared back at him, dimly. “Anyway, we should get moving before more of them appear.” Grabbing her hand, he dragged her away from the stinking creature.

“I’m picking up a life form,” the security aide looked at Captain Typho with an expression approaching hope. It was the first indication they had had since they started searching the area for any sign of the Senator or Jedi Siri Tachi. “It’s larger than anything we’ve seen. Shall I check it out, sir?”  
Typho rubbed at the bandage that covered the wound on his scalp, “Roger that.”  
The speeder swooped low over the fields, and the two men watched the scanner as the reading became more insistent. It was clearly strong enough to indicate a human.  
“There she is!” Typho saw the figure crouched at the side of the small pool of water through the view-screen. “It’s the senator.”  
Screeching to a halt, the speeder stopped a few meters away from the Senator who, immediately recognising the markings on the speeder, got up and ran towards them.  
“Senator Amidala!” Typho jumped out of the speeder and ran over to meet the exhausted looking young lady. He looked at her with concern, but despite the evidence that she was covered in mud and her clothes were torn, he was relieved that she was not wounded in any serious manner.  
“We have to help Siri,” Padmé’s words came out in a breathless rush, “she came to rescue me but I left her on her own, she made me leave her…”  
“Woah, slow down my lady,” Typho placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her, “tell me that again.”  
“Siri is still at the compound where they took me, I said I’d get help.”  
“Who took you? The CLONE?”  
“Yes,” she nodded urgently, “and there’s two Jedi…”  
“Oh,” that was not good news.  
“…We have to go back immediately Siri is in danger!”  
“We’re going to need reinforcements,” pointed out Typho, “there’s only three of us.”  
“I’ll contact the base,” said the aide, who had only just left the speeder to express his relief at the Senator’s fortunate survival.  
“We can’t afford to wait,” insisted Padmé, as she and Captain followed him, “Siri is alone out there!”  
“There were no troops with her?”  
“No,” Padmé shook her head.  
“They must have been killed,” grunted Typho, torn between rationality and the desire, like the Senator, to help the undoubtedly brave Jedi. “Right, we’ll go on ahead and see what we can do. But if it’s too dangerous we’ll wait until the others arrive.”  
“Thank you, Captain.” Grimly Padmé jumped into the speeder after the two men and within moments the speeder was away.

Soon it was not necessary for Anakin’s lightsaber, the light from the crystals was growing stronger as they walked further into the cave system. He placed it back at his belt and turned to Pitarwa, “These look more like the crystals you will need.”  
“They’re beautiful.” She walked along beside him, open-mouthed, marvelling at the beauty of the caves. So far, no more of the strange creatures had dared to attack them although they could hear them shuffling about in the shadows. It seemed Anakin’s quick reflexes had convinced them of the need to keep a distance. Any that got too close quickly cowered when the lightsaber was thrust in their direction. “They are obviously intelligent,” had been Anakin’s comment.  
The walls of the cave were narrower here, almost entirely covered in sparkling crystals, almost blinding in their intensity. Ahead they could see an archway, leading possibly into a larger chamber beyond. Sensing this was the source of the power emanating from the deepest recesses of the caves, Anakin suggested that they carry on.  
Stepping beneath the archway they emerged into a vast, open chamber. At the centre a twisted pillar of sinuous rock stretching from ceiling to floor, every inch covered in crystals. Around the outer walls, clumps of crystals, growing from the floor as if complex, spiky plants. They were everywhere. But so was the sense of impending horror. No longer so enamoured of the crystals, Pitarwa kept hold of Anakin’s arm, shivering. It was cold in the chamber, where before it had been so warm. There was no life in this part of the cave; even the creatures did not dare to enter.  
They were standing on the threshold. Anakin took a step forward, then another. The air was so still he feared it might shatter, the atmosphere close to that of a vacuum in space.  
They headed over to the crystal at the centre, the source of power. The crystals pulsated softly, the light inside them shifting and fleeting. Pitarwa looked on in awe, not daring to speak. There was something so mysterious, so magical about the crystals they demanded respect.  
When Anakin spoke even his normally authoritative voice was hushed, “We’ll find your crystal here.”  
Letting go of his hand, Pitarwa moved slowly around the pillar, peering into crystals. “How…?”  
“Relax and empty your mind,” said Anakin, “let the crystal find you.”  
As Pitarwa nodded, Anakin found too that he was mesmerised by the glowing crystals. Within them he saw visions, glimpses of faces, fleeting shadows moving beneath their surface. Moving closer he tried to grasp what he saw his eyes fixated on the light; it was filling his senses, shutting out everything else, filling his head with warm glowing light…

He was running through the caves, calling out Pitarwa’s name. Images crowded in his mind; his mother, Obi-wan, Qui-Gon, the malevolent Maul with his yellow eyes, the shrieking Sith, her voice wild with accusations, Dooku’s cold stare boring into him… “Pitarwa!” But there was no reply. He had to find her. The creatures were closing in he could hear their guttural cries and squeaks, could hear the skittering of their feet on the ground. There was little time. Then he saw her… lying on the ground, curled into a protective ball. Kneeling beside her, he placed his hand on her head feeling no flicker of life. Closer… but he could feel no warmth from her breath. he was as cold as the caves. Silent tears cascaded down his cheeks. Who could have done this…? She was so young, so innocent. Hearing a heavy breathing behind him he spun round to see… to see a shadow. But it was not his shadow, this was something else. A dark shifting cloud, he could feel its rancour burning into his soul. Another image intruded into his thoughts, Pitarwa wrestling with the shadow, it entangled around her neck, around her thin body, drawing the life out of her until she collapsed to the ground. It had killed her! Drawing his lightsaber he leapt towards the shadow. For a while they fought, the shadow seeming to suck the light from its surroundings. With a cry he sliced his sword through the shadow’s heart but the shadow did not disappear. It became a stream, flowing into his mouth, into his eyes – he couldn’t stop it… it overwhelmed him and everything went black. When he awoke, he was standing over Pitarwa’s body again. Only Pitarwa was now Padmé, a trickle of blood staining her chin. Next to her, his mother, Qui-Gon, Obi-wan, all stained with blood. He felt his hands were clammy. Looking down he saw blood. “Anakin!” a cacophony of terrified voice filled his senses and above all he could hear the shadow in his head was laughing. You killed them all, it said…

“Anakin?” She was looking for him. Stumbling over ridges, searching behind towering columns amidst the glowing crystals. All the time she could hear them coming, their strange cries at once in front, then behind her, the scratch scratch of their feet on stone. Then… then she saw him. He was fighting but as if with a cloud, the being had no solid form although it wielded dark energy as it would a weapon. It was a shadow. Creeping forward, she watched. What could she do? She had no weapon. Then with a cry Anakin fell to the ground, the shadow piercing his side. She tried to run but there was nowhere to run to. Then the shadow turned to her; she saw its yellow eyes burning as solitary flames. It came towards her; “Pitarwa” he called her name with his dying breath and a lightsaber landed with a soft clunk beside her feet. “You must face the shadow.” At first she was afraid but as she fought the shadow she felt herself growing stronger and stronger. And the shadow was getting smaller and smaller, until only its eyes were left glowing lights within the dark caverns...

With a gasp Anakin sat up; it was as though he was coming up from water, gulping the freezing air into his lungs in a desperate bid to clear his head of the vision. His head swam giddily.  
“Anakin?” Pitarwa, beside him, was looking at him in puzzlement. “Did it happen to you to?”  
“Yes.”  
“What did you see?”  
“I’ll tell you later,” he said gently, helping her up, “there isn’t time now. Have you found your crystal?”  
Uncurling her hand, Pitarwa showed him the yellow crystal that lay there, gently luminescent against her dark skin. “You were right. It found me.”  
Laying the components needed for the lightsaber out on the floor of the cave, Anakin helped her to nestle the crystal into the central power unit where it would be held safe, fitting the power unit into the simple hilt, designed to nestle snugly in the padawan’s slim hand. The most useful possession a Jedi would ever own. “This is your life,” he said to Pitarwa gravely, recalling the words said to him by Obi-wan, “the crystal lies at the heart of the blade, it channels the Force. As does the heart of the Jedi.”  
Her eyes shining, Pitarwa took the hilt as if it was something forever sacred, hanging it from her belt slowly, as befitted a reverent moment. “I will always keep it safe.”  
“Come on,” holding out his hand to her, “let’s get back to Master Alayhan.”  
They hurried back through the cave, neither speaking this time. Neither did the creatures approach them, as if sensing a change within them after their experiences in the far chamber. Eventually they emerged, blinking, into the sunlight and glad to be free of the suffocating atmosphere.  
“Master!” As she ran over to Alayhan, Pitarwa saw that his eyes were closed. Kneeling down beside him, she leaned close to his parted lips and felt the whisper of breath against her cheek, “He’s alive.”  
Relieved, Anakin crouched down beside them both. “We’ll take him with us.”  
“You can carry him?”  
“Yes,” making sure that the bandages were still tied securely, Anakin flexed his shoulders in readiness.  
“Anakin?” the voice was so quiet they barely heard it. “Pitarwa? Is… is that you?”  
“Yes, it’s us Master,” she said soothingly, brushing her master’s hair away from his forehead.  
“You… you made it?” His eyes opened as slits, barely enough strength did he have.  
Unhooking the lightsaber from her belt, Pitarwa placed it carefully into his shaking hands, “Yes Master. I made my lightsaber.”  
“I’m so… so proud of you.” The cracked lips managed a smile, “and… Anakin… you have my gratitude.”  
Bowing his head, Anakin did not smile. “You were right. It was a place of darkness.”  
“Tell me… tell me… what you… saw…” as he struggled out the words, his eyes began to close again as his strength failed him.  
Pitarwa looked at Anakin in concern, “We should get more help.”  
“I agree.” Touching Alayhan’s forehead, he channelled his energy into soothing the Jedi Master’s pain, pleased to see the tension in his face dissipating. He would sleep to conserve his energy, “Let’s go.”

They left the speeders far enough away from the compound so that short-range scanners could not locate it easily. Using the long, overgrown grass as a cover they stealthily made their way towards the towering walls. There was no sign of any guards or troops patrolling the walls. In fact there was little sign of any activity at all.  
Reinforcements had not taken as long to reach them, as Padmé had first feared. They had encircled the compound, fanning out as singular entities, although Captain Typho insisted that the Senator remained close to him.  
“The gatehouse is cleared.” Typho turned to Padmé, “they’re inside.”  
Rising from the grass, they ran quickly towards the entrance to the compound, blasters at the ready. But they could hear no sounds of fighting from within the complex. As they crossed beneath the archway, it became clear why. The complex was deserted. As they passed through corridors and chambers, they found no sign of any CLONE troops or aides. The silence lay thick upon the compound like a blanket.  
Padmé searched for the room where she had been held, mentally retracing the course they had taken her from the underground dungeon, which was outside in the courtyard, inside the main building. Soon they reached the plain, gunmetal doors that marked the entrance. They were ajar, a pile of bodies jamming it open, CLONE troops lying haphazardly in the corridor. Looking at the Senator with concern, Typho ordered the bodies be moved so that they could enter the chamber.  
“Oh my.” Padmé stared in disbelief. It was a charnel house. Bodies lay everywhere, singularly and heaped in groups. The smell of death hung close on the air. Instinctively placing her hand over her mouth, she scanned the room. Eventually she saw the corpses of Gulnar Loothe and Bibbi Yun lying where they had fallen. There was no sign of Siri.  
“Nothing,” said Typho, leaving the troopers with the grisly business of checking faces.  
“Maybe she escaped?” suggested Padmé optimistically, seeing that most of the bodies appeared to have been charred in some fashion, signifying death by lightsaber.  
“I’ll try her homing beacon,” said Typho, typing in the necessary code into his wristband. “No fix yet… wait, wait. Got it.” He watched the streaming codes for a moment, “that’s strange. It’s coming from in here my lady.”  
“In here?” Feeling a horrible sense of dread, Padmé joined the others and started to examine more closely the faces of the many corpses strewn about the room.  
But it was Typho’s shout that confirmed her fears; she came over just as he was pulling away the body of a CLONE trooper to reveal the calm, reposed face of Jedi Siri Tachi.

They heard the noise of the battle before they saw it, the rumblings and explosions; they saw the bright lights in the distance, the smoke thrown up. Checking his wristband, Anakin shifted Master Alayhan’s body more comfortably on his shoulder, “There it is.”  
“The capital?”  
“Master Obi-wan’s signal is coming from the Eastern side,” Anakin frowned as he sought to get a clear reading amongst all the interference. “Wounded warrior to grumpy old man. Come in.”  
“Anything?” Pitarwa looked anxiously as he tapped his wrist repeatedly.  
“Not yet.”  
Suddenly the wristband crackled into life, “This is grumpy… old man. Is that you Anakin?”  
“Yes Master.”  
“Where the blazes have you been?” Even through the static it was clear that Obi-wan was annoyed.  
“I’ll tell you all about it, Master. I’ve got Pitarwa and Master Alayhan with me. He’s badly wounded.”  
“Rendezvous at point six oh three,” came the crackle of static, “I’ll meet you there.”  
“Roger that.”

“General Kenobi,” the Republic trooper approached the motionless Jedi, still wondering at the significance of Anakin’s message, “we’re getting reports of a break through on the Northern side of the city.”  
“Finally.” Obi-wan had been waiting for such news for a long time. “Take your men Commander, go in and see if you can break the CLONE’s ranks from that position.”  
“Right away, Sir!”  
Both Obi-wan and Hedi Junnan had finally made it to the city, fighting off attempts by detached CLONE units to prevent them. Obi-wan had felt that he would have been there sooner with Anakin’s help but at least he had rescued Master Alayhan and he seemed to have defeated the Sith. Part of Obi-wan’s irritation had undoubtedly been his concern for Anakin and the thought of losing him and knowing that he was alive brought much needed, but perhaps misunderstood, relief to the Jedi’s heart. He could see where the Republic troops were securing their position, could see some of the inhabitants of the city venturing onto the parapets. Surely it would not be long before the CLONE surrendered. But Obi-wan had a feeling they would fight to the death. After all, droids had no concept of death and most of the CLONE forces were composed of droids.  
There was a sudden explosion to the North, blasting a section of the city walls apart and sending it tumbling onto the fighting troops, crushing them.  
“Send reinforcements to sector twelve,” he commanded via his comlink, “and hurry.”  
“Obi-wan!”  
Hearing a shout to his left, Obi-wan turned round to see Anakin marching up the slope towards him, Alayhan draped across his shoulder and holding Pitarwa’s hand in his, the young Jedi having to trot to keep up. Seeing their terrible wounds, Alayhan barely conscious, seeing how exhausted the two youngsters were, Obi-wan immediately set about organising their relief. Calling over the medical team, Alayhan was carried away to one of the troop carriers to be hooked up to breathing equipment. Anakin and Pitarwa were nearly collapsed with fatigue and Obi-wan insisted that they too get checked out whilst he returned to the front line. He would visit them later.

“Llantg’ Sala is ours,” Obi-wan had gone to speak to Anakin, sitting up in the makeshift medical centre. They had patched the wound on his face, stitched it neatly after clearing away the layers of dried blood. Otherwise it was mostly bruises and burns he had suffered at the hands of Asajj Ventress.  
“That’s good news,” Anakin coughed, his lungs still affected by the dampness of the surrounding air, “so we’ll be able to leave soon?”  
“Certainly,” Obi-wan was aware that Anakin was tired but he was keen to get to the bottom of the mysterious adversary. “They found this on you.” He handed him the lightsaber he had taken from Asajj.  
Taking it in his hands, Anakin looked at it ruefully. “A souvenir of a most unpleasant encounter.”  
“So she was a Sith?” frowned Obi-wan.  
“It seemed so and she fought like a Sith, with the dirtiest tactics you can imagine.” Anakin looked at Obi-wan gravely, “She told me that Lord Tyrannus sent her to kill me.”  
“You’re lucky to be alive,” chastised Obi-wan, “she was baiting you and you fell for it.”  
“She had to be stopped,” he said matter-of-factly, “you had more than enough troops to make it to the capital.”  
“It’s not enough Anakin,” Obi-wan shook his head, “next time I give you an order, I expect you to obey me. Not flagrantly disregard me.”  
Anakin refused to be sorry for his actions, “We have to stop the Sith, Master. Besides, I warned you that the CLONE would ambush us and you failed to listen to me.”  
Obi-wan sensed that Anakin was perhaps becoming a little too over-confident, “And you think you’re strong enough to face a Sith?”  
“Yes.” Staring his Master in the eyes, Anakin said boldly, “I killed her. The lightsaber should be proof enough.”  
“Still, I’ll send a squad to locate the body. The more we know about this Sith, the better.”  
“How is Master Alayhan?” Anakin glanced over to where the Jedi Master lay; he could hear the rasping of the breathing machine although he was on the other side of the medical bay. Pitarwa was maintaining a vigil beside her Master, crouched over his body, clasping his hand.  
“He’s still unconscious,” said Obi-wan, his clipped voice showing little emotion.  
“I wish we could have done more for him.”  
“You did all you could.” After a suitable pause he continued, “Pitarwa was telling me you helped her to build her first lightsaber,” there was a suggestion of pride in his voice. “That you both faced a particularly difficult trial.”  
“The mirror,” said Anakin quietly. The images he had seen were less vivid but still nothing could shake the horrible realisation he had encountered, the feelings still strong.  
“We do not always see things that we want to see when we face the mirror,” replied Obi-wan, hearing a note of unease in his voice. “It is how we react to what we see which is important.” Patting his shoulder, Obi-wan continued, “Tell me when you’re feeling better. Get as much rest as you can, there’s only some mopping up to do and I can handle that.”  
“I am certain you can Master.” Anakin leaned back against the sloped support of the couch, watching Obi-wan as he left the tent. As the flap was pushed aside, he saw a glimpse into the world he should be in; the world of chaos, one which needed saving and could be saved. Then the flap closed and he was left with the machines, with the ill and the dying. Not his world at all.

They decided to bury him outside the city walls, to dedicate a memorial to his courage and bravery and the regard in which they all held him. Pitarwa wept bitter tears as they carried his body over to the funeral pyre, wrapped in the cloak of the Jedi. She was standing close to Anakin, his face suffused with grief. Despite everything they had tried Alayhan had died, never to regain consciousness or to see the Jedi that Pitarwa would one day be.  
“He is at one with the Force,” intoned Obi-wan softly, his hand on Pitarwa’s shoulder. “Let us not grieve for our loss but let us celebrate his life. He will lead us by example.”  
“Goodbye, Master,” whispered the young girl as the fire was lit, the flames spluttering as they were caught by the wind but then taking hold. “And thank you.”  
Ashes floated in the sky, spiralling upwards towards where the moons gleamed in the inky fastness, Alayhan’s spirit heading upwards with them.


	4. Forbidden Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme visits the Jedi Temple to inform the Council of the death of Siri Tachi. Obi-wan is dealt a terrible blow and asks for some time alone. Anakin accompanies Padme home and they finally give into their feelings for each other.

There was a stir in the Jedi Temple as Senator Amidala, accompanied by her chief of security Captain Typho and representatives of the Republic Army, Admiral Organa and Captain Gunwald Kagi, swept through on their way to meet with the Jedi. There had been rumours for days that something terrible had happened on Manaan, still unconfirmed even on the Holonet. Only the smallest piece of news had leaked through; that the relief convoy had been attacked and many lives had been lost. It seemed telling however that Master Siri Tachi was not part of the entourage that had entered the Temple.  
Only lately returned from Raxus Prime, Anakin and Obi-wan were enjoying a walk together in the Temple corridors when they met the convoy of senators coming the other way.  
“Good day General Kenobi, Anakin,” said Admiral Organa, and the others present murmured their own greetings to the two Jedi.  
“What are you doing here?” Anakin asked Padmé kindly, less worried about the niceties than his Master. He sensed a great sadness within her and he wondered at its cause.  
Padmé normally would have laughed at Anakin’s blunt questioning but she couldn’t bring herself to even smile. “Something terrible has happened.”  
Obi-wan looked in askance at Bail, “Something terrible?”  
“Senator Amidala, would you mind being the bearer of bad tidings?” asked Bail, “We must go to the Chancellor’s office to inform him of the tragedy.”  
“Of course,” agreed Padmé, loath to go through the details a second time but seeing it was her duty. “Master Obi-wan, is there somewhere quiet we can go?”  
“Yes, there is,” replied Obi-wan absently, a thousand possible scenarios cruising through his head. Terrible… bad tidings… tragedy these words were loaded with only negative connotations. He knew it had to be connected to the absence of Siri. It had to be. Why else would the Senators have come to the Temple? “Come this way, my lady.”  
Whilst the rest of the party left the Temple for the Senate, Padmé followed Obi-wan and Anakin to one of the meditation rooms on the east side of the Temple. Like all meditation rooms it was starkly furnished, the walls painted in a neutral colour to prevent any distraction and blinds covering the window to let in only enough light to see. The resulting atmosphere was warm and womb-like.  
“We heard only rumours and assumed they were exaggerated,” said Anakin, who felt his Master’s distress as keenly as he felt Padmé’s.  
“They were not exaggerated.” Sitting down, Padmé looked at them both sombrely. There was no way to coat the news she had to give in palatable words so she did not even attempt it. “Master Tachi is dead.”  
“Dead?” Obi-wan tried hard not to let his emotions claim him but it was difficult. “Siri is dead?”  
Padmé nodded, feeling dreadful. “She died saving my life, Master Kenobi.”  
It was the kind of selfless act that he would have expected from Siri. But it would not help bring her back. She was gone! As the news sank in that he would never see her again, he suddenly felt dizzy.  
“Master, are you alright?” Anakin took hold of Obi-wan’s arm, seeing him turn pale.  
“Yes, Anakin. I’m fine. It’s a shock, that’s all.” Obi-wan straightened himself out. “I knew Siri well, we began our training at the same time. We were nine years old, although she liked to think she was more mature than me.” It helped him to think of his younger days, Siri had always been happy then despite the rigour of the Jedi training. It was the only the growth of the darkness and the advent of the war that had robbed the light from her eyes. It was better to remember her as she had been.  
“I wish I could have done more to save her,” said Padmé, gently, unused to seeing such emotion in the older Jedi’s expression, “we did all we could but it was too late.”  
“Are you able to tell us what happened?” said Obi-wan, who wasn’t entirely sure he could take any more knowledge about the end of Siri but he could not admit that to Anakin or Padmé. “If it is too difficult...?”  
“No Master Kenobi, I can tell you.” The Senator acquiesced and told him about the ambush on Illum, the two Jedi and how they were going to use her against the Republic, Siri’s daring rescue and her escape, only to return too late. Obi-wan and Anakin listened to her words with sombre attention until she had finished.   
“She would have fought to the end,” murmured Anakin in admiration, remembering his early lightsaber training with the fearless Jedi Master.  
“It would have been like her,” answered Obi-wan softly. He felt the need to be alone, to concentrate on his loss and work through it. “Anakin, would you mind escorting Senator Amidala to where she needs to go? I need some time alone.”  
“Yes Master.” Clearly Obi-wan had been close to Siri and he understood that he needed time to grieve, after all they were still grieving Master Alayhan’s death. He turned to the Senator who was still looking very pale. “Shall we leave now, my lady?”  
“Master Kenobi,” said Padmé, hating to be the cause of his sadness, “please believe that if I could have done anything more to save Master Tachi’s life I would have.”  
“Padmé, I know you feel guilt over what happened but you must not blame yourself,” reiterated Obi-wan, smiling sadly. “Go home and get some rest, for you also it has been a terrible trauma. It will also help to put events into perspective.”  
Knowing that she was dwelling too much on negative, self-centred feelings, Padmé nodded, “You’re right. Thank you for your kind words, Master Kenobi.”  
As soon as they had gone, Obi-wan sank back down onto the cushion, his mind in turmoil. Siri was gone. It was not the first friend he had lost; he had lost Qui-Gon, many Jedi had died on Geonosis and in the wars since then but few had touched his heart in the way that Siri had. Her light had gone into the Force along with the light in his heart.

The Senator and Jedi walked silently through the Hall of Echoes, barely taking in their surroundings or each other. Padmé was still thinking of the terrible events that had deprived the Temple of one of its best warriors and Anakin was thinking of his friend, wishing he could understand the turmoil he had sensed within him. It therefore took Master Windu several attempts to get their attention.  
“Skywalker?”  
“Master Windu,” Anakin was the first to register the soft tones of the Jedi Master and immediately snapped to attention.  
“Good day to you both,” said the elder Jedi, knowing that the Senator’s visit had not been for positive reasons. “I was looking for Master Kenobi, I thought he might be with you, Anakin?”  
“He wished to meditate alone,” said Anakin soberly, “and to grieve for the loss of Master Tachi.”  
“I thought so.” Master Windu turned to the Senator, “I hope you found your visit to the Temple enlightening, Senator Amidala. Few from outside the Order are permitted inside its walls.”  
“I am honoured to have been allowed in here, Master Windu.” Padmé sighed heavily, “but I wish my visit here was not associated with the loss of one of the Order.”  
“Master Tachi is at one with the Force now, my lady,” said Mace softly, hoping to give her some hope, “and she died so that you might live. That is the greatest fulfilment for a Jedi, to save others before ourselves.”  
“You give me hope, Master Windu, that she has not died then in vain.”  
“A Jedi never dies in vain, my lady,” Mace rarely smiled but he bestowed one on the Senator, “her strength will return to the Force which gives succour to us all. And Siri’s name will be long remembered, I can assure you.”   
Anakin remained silent. Despite his training, he always felt distinctly uncomfortable about the way in which the Jedi Order discussed death, as though it was something to be grateful for. He would never understand their feelings, rather lack of feeling, on the matter.  
“Well, I will not keep you,” said the Jedi Master kindly, “and I trust we will meet again in happier circumstances.”  
“I hope so, Master Windu.”  
“Good evening to you both.”

Finding that it was impossible to locate what he considered to be a safe transport to take the Senator back to her apartments, Anakin decided that he would escort her back there himself. The visions he had experienced on Raxus Prime had begun to make sense finally in the context of Padmé’s trauma on Manaan and he wanted to talk to her, to be certain that she was not underestimating the danger that she had been in. When they reached the Senator’s apartments, it delighted him therefore when Padmé asked that he might stay and talk to her a while, still feeling shaken after recent events and needing some company. Invited him into her private sitting room, Anakin remembered the stylish surroundings that the Senator enjoyed from when he had been assigned to protect her. Little had changed about the room in the meantime, although he noticed some more souvenirs of Naboo on the mantelpiece.  
“Do you mind?” asked Padmé, indicating that she was wishing to remove her heavy outer cape and hair ornaments.  
“No, of course not.” Satisfied with hot chocolate, biscuits and a warm fire by which to sit, Anakin was already wishing that he could spend more time with the Senator. What was normal to her was considered to be luxury in the Temple.  
As Padmé removed the official symbols of her office, Anakin filled her in on his mission, including the fight with the Sith and the horrifying visions he had in the night and in the cave. “I had a similar experience on Manaan,” she explained, coming to sit by him now that she was dressed only in the long plain blue gown that had formed the basis for the more elaborate parts of her gown, “a little girl had a vision that I would be taken away by the dark men.”  
“And did you act on it?”  
“Siri warned security but they didn’t take her seriously.”  
“There you see. I’m the same, I did not think that my vision signified anything until just now when you told Obi-wan of the disaster that befell you.”  
“These visions do not seem very helpful if their meaning is not made apparent until after the event,” grumbled Padmé, staring into the fire. Going over events with Anakin had helped to put them into perspective; he had admired the self-sacrifice of Siri Tachi and her ability to overcome two Dark Jedi, but she knew that she owed the Jedi a tremendous debt. That was four times now her life had been saved by a member of the Jedi Order.  
“I know but would you have taken me seriously if I told you?” asked Anakin, “You were determined to let nothing stand in your way of helping the relief work.”  
“Maybe not,” she risked a slight smile, “I can be stubborn.”  
“Can be? You’re the most stubborn person I know,” warming up by the fire, Anakin was returning to his old self.  
“And you’re fast becoming the most wounded person I know.” She looked at the long, thin cut running across his eye, the pattern of bruises across his jaw. “Did you get that from your fight with the Sith?”  
“Yes, it was a hard fight,” admitted Anakin, remembering the ruthlessness and energy of the Sith, “but I escaped with only burns mostly, a few bruises and scratches, and hopefully a fetching scar.”  
“I’m glad you can see the bright side,” Padmé could not help smiling at his attempt to downplay the serious nature of the attack. “I am not so sure I can.”  
“We have to, my lady, this is only the first of many missions. The CLONE are tricky, they seem to be able to take us by surprise. With Dooku’s help it’s not surprising, though, it’s possible that they can tap into the Force. It also doesn’t help that Dooku is turning Jedi against the Republic.”  
“I feel so lucky to be alive,” Padmé remembered the two Jedi she had encountered and shuddered. “It could have so easily been different.”  
“Luck has very little to do with it,” asserted Anakin, “it was the will of the Force, like Master Windu said.” Anakin sensed that Padmé was keeping something terrible to herself, something to do with her abduction and feelings of guilt over the death of Siri. “Forgive me if I ask, but did you tell me and Obi-wan everything that happened on Illium?”  
“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied evasively, taking a sip of her drink.  
“I don’t want to press you, my lady, but I sense there is something you’re not telling me.”  
Frowning, she looked away, uncertain where to begin. “It was the two Jedi. They…” she stopped, uncertain how to go on.  
“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”  
“No, I do want to,” she said, feeling cowardly, “but I don’t know how without having to remember it.”  
“I can try and read it from your mind, if you’ll let me?”  
“You can?” It was a relief to know she did not have to relive the events verbally, “Have you done this before?”  
“No,” he admitted sheepishly, “I don’t know if it’s possible but I’d like to have a try if you’ll let me.”  
“What must I do?”  
“Just relax,” he told her, placing a hand either side of her forehead, “and empty your mind. You won’t feel a thing, I promise.” As she visibly relaxed and he felt the tension from her mind ease, he tentatively, and gently, probed into her memories, trying to locate the particular anguish he sensed there. It did not take him long to find it. Having seen enough, he gently massaged her temples, sending positive thoughts in return, hoping it would help the memories to fade.  
“What did you see?” she asked, trembling at his touch.  
“The arrogance of the Jedi,” he replied, keeping his own feelings in check. “I can’t believe…” he stopped, knowing it was pointless to say anything; it was what he expected from Jedi drunk on power.  
“Anakin,” said Padmé quietly, her heart fluttering as his hands caressed her forehead, “this might sound strange but would you stroke my hair?” When he looked at her in confusion, she continued hesitantly, “I can’t bear to think that the only man that touched my hair was that horrible slimy Jedi…”  
It was enough to convince him, “Of course, my lady.” Slowly he reached up and patted her lovely shiny hair with his hand, as though he were patting an animal or small pet. It felt so soft and warm under his hand that soon he relaxed and allowed his hand to wander further along the curls that gathered around her shoulders, exploring their texture and movement beneath his fingers. It was extremely calming for the young man; for once he felt at peace, utterly focused on one activity. “How’s that?”  
Focusing only on the calming sensations created in her by the movement of his hands, Padmé barely answered, “Lovely.”  
Feeling the beginnings of his passion for her stirring in his heart, Anakin quickly tried to dampen down his ardour with chit-chat. “I hope that you will think twice now before undertaking any more relief work.”  
“Yes, even the Chancellor has requested that I remain on Coruscant for the time-being. I will have to see how I can help from Coruscant. There must be something I can do.”  
“You must not see it as a failure,” said Anakin gently, “you did all you could.”  
She regarded him sombrely, “Please, Anakin, ensure that relief work doesn’t come second. Civilian lives can all too easily become expendable in a time of conflict.”  
“I will try to have some influence with the Army Command,” said Anakin ruefully, remembering his less than successful attempt at convincing Obi-wan of the correctness of his strategy. “But as you know, very few people are prepared to listen to a padawan learner.”  
Her cheeks glowed pink slightly as she remembered the times he referred to, “You’ve gained much more authority since then, Anakin.”  
“I hope so.” Glancing outside he could see that the sky had darkened, “Anyway, it is late and you must get some rest, my lady.”  
He was ready to take his leave but then she clutched at his sleeve, “Please, Anakin stay a little longer.”  
He could see her eyes glisten with sudden tears. “My lady, I must get back, we have a curfew...”  
“Please. I have to tell you something.”  
It seemed strange to Anakin that he had been talking to her for most of the afternoon and evening but it was only on his departure that suddenly she needed to tell him something. “What is it?”  
“There’s no easy way to say this, Anakin,” began Padmé, looking at him intensely. “Ever since Geonosis really, and even more so over the past few days I’ve realised that… I love you.”  
“You love me?” Although he had only dared to hope it before, hearing the actual words coming from her lips threw him back into emotional confusion.  
“Yes! I know that… things happened when we were together that at the time seemed to be an unwelcome distraction, to me at least,” she went on, rushing her words now in the attempt to get them out before she lost her nerve. “But after what’s happened I only realise how important it is to have you in my life.”  
The young man was in turmoil, his heart thumping so loudly in his ears the surroundings ceased to register in his perception. It had taken him weeks, months even of working through his emotions with Obi-wan to come to terms with the strong feelings he had for Padmé. And now she seemed to be experiencing a complete turnaround from her position on Dantooine. “I don’t think I need to tell you, Padmé, how much I feel for you. You must know I love you!”  
It was the first time he had used her name and her heart leaped in her chest.  
“So you’re saying we shouldn’t deny our feelings?” he asked, leaning closer as he felt her move imperceptibly towards him.  
“Yes,” she whispered back, lost in his eyes, “they only grow stronger the more we ignore them.”  
Finally their lips met and this time there was no shame, no embarrassment, they allowed their feelings to have free reign.

“Are we doing the right thing?” she whispered as he made to leave, worried that he would miss the Temple’s curfew.  
“You know we’re not,” he smiled at her, touching the curls that framed perfectly her beautiful face, “you wouldn’t need to ask if it was.”  
“Then I hope you’re worth it,” she grinned, holding him close for as long as she could before he had to go.


	5. Defenders of the Republic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turmoil spreads across the Republic as the CLONE wars wrack the galaxy, but Anakin and Obi-wan return to Coruscant for a much-needed rest. Much to his delight, Anakin becomes a Jedi Knight now that he has passed the final trials. He continues to spend time with Padme, despite knowing it is wrong, and this, along with frequent bouts of insomnia, begins to take its toll on the young warrior.
> 
> In an effort to improve the Jedi's flagging reputation, damaged by Dooku and their inaction over committing to the war effort, the Chancellor and Mace Windu agree to create an elite fighting corps made up of Jedi warriors that will publicly swear an oath to protect the Republic. There is growing evidence that it was Dooku's plan to create the army and plunge the galaxy into war. 
> 
> When the CLONE are traced to a former Jedi Temple, Anakin and Obi-wan are sent to Korriban to break the siege, and find out what might have happened to Dooku when he travelled to the planet.

With the tense situation in the Republic it was imperative that the Jedi did not remain on Coruscant for long. When they were present in the city-planet it was barely enough time to rest, an endless round of campaign meetings, presentations, meeting with the High Command and continuing investigations. Even so, it was not easy for all of them to respond effectively to the continuous demands placed on their time.  
Late again, Anakin rushed along corridors that separated his quarters from those of the main hub of the Temple. Obi-wan had already left and he could already hear the lecture on punctuality forming on his Master’s lips. However he felt his mood was buoyant after a good night’s sleep – too good, he had enjoyed it so much he had slept through his alarm. Only the angry banging on his door by a neighbouring padawan, who was fed up with hearing the incessant buzzing, had roused him.  
They had not been back on Coruscant long. It had been a day since Obi-wan and he had returned from quelling an uprising on Concord Dawn, Obi-wan displaying the skills that earned him the title of “Negotiator.” It had been one of the most arresting planets he had ever been to but although he tried to take an interest in complex rituals and negotiations he felt that his skills lay in combat, not in talking, as his experience with Asajj Ventress had proved.  
As he came into the Hall of Echoes he spied Obi-wan, standing serenely to one side, tapping his watch tellingly as soon as he saw him. Practising his most winning smile, Anakin hurried over, “Forgive me, Master.”  
“What’s the excuse this time?” There was no amusement in Obi-wan’s eyes, they were as stony as his stern expression.  
“I overslept.”  
“Too much sleep? That’s a change at least. Come on, the Council is waiting for us.”  
“They should be used to being kept waiting by now,” smiled Anakin, following his Master across the marble hallway.  
“I’ll let you explain our tardiness then to Master Windu,” suggested Obi-wan wryly. Seeing his pupil’s expression he grinned, “I thought not.”  
“If I knew why they wanted to speak to us I might have made more effort to wake up early,” replied Anakin in his defence. “They are always so secretive.”  
“Anakin, it isn’t secrecy,” remarked Obi-wan, “it is the way that the Jedi have always operated. Its business is reserved for the Council chamber alone. Nobody except you appears to have a problem with that.” For someone as impetuous as Anakin, there was also a side to him that craved security, realised as a need for control of situations. Obi-wan had never really reconciled the two and he suspected that neither had Anakin.  
“I’m sorry, Master,” he said in a more conciliatory tone.  
“You are too impatient,” scolded Obi-wan tenderly as he stepped into the elevator and Anakin dutifully followed him. “We’ll find out soon enough

In the Council chamber the mood was sombre as the Masters present sought to understand the forces ranged against them. Their numbers were few as they were needed elsewhere; some Masters had begun to question the need for a central Council at all. With Master Yoda once again in seclusion there was an underlying hopelessness beneath the optimism.  
“Dooku is more dangerous than we realised,” Plo Keen had muttered darkly, “from where stems the ability to betray his own Order?” His views represented the great upset many Jedi felt at the situation Dooku had placed them in. “From the information supplied by Senators Organa and Amidala it also appears that he intents to subvert more Jedi to his cause. How many more have we lost?”  
“Two more have absconded in the past three weeks,” admitted Master Windu, consulting a holopad in his hand. “With all the turbulence in the Force, it is getting difficult for us to adequately watch over the members of our Order with the same confidence that we once had.”  
“It is a quest for greater power,” remarked Ki ali mundi as the Council murmured amongst themselves. “The desire of the Sith is personal aggrandisement and Dooku obviously felt he was above the Jedi Order.”  
“That is true,” commented Windu, anxious to gain a greater understanding of Dooku’s motives, “but short of being a Sith we will never truly understand what drives an individual to such self-destruction.”  
“That is the crux of our lack of understanding,” exclaimed Ki ali mundi excitedly. “Here we teach from entrance that nothing good ever becomes of joining the Sith. Anger and greed only lead to the loss of self and a slow death under the weight of such hatred.” He paused for a moment, “Yet it’s teachings seduced Dooku, who until his desertion was one of our foremost Masters. Now more Jedi are deserting to join him. How can we hope to protect those who are less confident, less secure in their beliefs? Those who chafe at the demands placed upon them.”  
The Jedi concurred amongst themselves it was a peculiar situation, one that they had no immediate answer for. It had been thousands of years since they had been forced to reckon with a Sith and it was obvious that they were floundering.  
“Dooku must be stopped at whatever cost,” said Plo Keen, gazing at his colleagues around the room, “we cannot allow a return to the long and costly wars that once split this Republic apart.”  
“Unfortunately it seems we are already heading that way,” replied Mace Windu, leaning his strong chin against his folded hands. He looked up as the doors swung open, “Ah, here they are. Welcome Master Kenobi, Anakin.”  
The Master and pupil entered, side-by-side, and walked to the middle of the circular space, facing the Jedi Council. It was a beautiful clear day and the polished wood floor shone in the soft light of the sun. Before anyone spoke, Obi-wan stepped back, leaving Anakin standing alone in the centre of the chamber. He wondered what was going on, especially when the Jedi Masters dropped to their knees, and the chamber was plunged into darkness. The only illumination came from their lightsabers, casting weird shadows across the faces of the noble Jedi Masters, adding a solemnity to the proceedings. Anakin felt a whisper of ancient magic.  
“Kneel,” said Master Windu sternly, stepping forward before him.  
Dropping to his knees, Anakin bowed his head.  
“Anakin Skywalker,” Mace intoned gravely, “you have passed the four tests which shall confer upon you the status of Jedi Knight. The test of the flesh, the test of courage, the test of skill and the test of spirit; you have earned the right to take your place by your Master’s side. As a Jedi you must swear to uphold justice, right, order and peace in the Republic.”  
“I swear.” Anakin’s quiet voice seemed loud in the silence of the chamber.  
“Where there is suffering you must bring compassion; where there is conflict you must bring hope; and where there is turmoil you must bring peace.”  
“I will do my utmost to fulfil that which is placed upon me and to lay down my life for my brethren.”  
The lightsaber swept down in one continuous motion, the hum filling Anakin’s right ear. But he did not flinch. Immediately he felt something was missing. The unmistakable padawan braid had gone, lying on the floor cauterised by the blade.  
“Arise, Anakin Skywalker,” intoned Mace, the chamber filling with light as the other Jedi lifted their swords in commemoration of the event. “Jedi Knight, protector and defender of the Republic.”  
Turning to face the Jedi Masters he bowed to them each in turn, pleased to see that on Obi-wan’s face was the proudest smile.  
Light once more flooded the chamber. “Anakin, we are very pleased to welcome you fully into the Jedi Order,” said Master Windu kindly.  
“I would not have achieved so much without your training and support,” said Anakin humbly. “I would not be here now if it had not been for your belief in me.” At that minute he felt he could conquer every obstacle, could survive anything.  
For once there was to be no lectures, they would allow him his moment of glory. They felt a new peace within the turbulent young man, a new serenity that he had not demonstrated before; twinned with it was a resilience and determination to succeed.  
“The Chancellor has asked to see you Master Kenobi,” said Ki ali mundi as the rest of the Council filed out, “he has heard about the speech you gave to the Order after Geonosis.”  
“He has?” Obi-wan looked slightly embarrassed. Following the debate after the debacle on Geonosis as to the role that the Jedi should take in the forthcoming conflicts, Obi-wan has given an impassioned speech to the Order explaining the need for the Jedi to take a lead role in all aspects of war, whether diplomacy, conflict or reconnaissance. They were the spirit of the Republic and they should be ready to lead the return to the Republic. For the calm and collected Jedi to argue so forcefully had been a revelation for his colleagues.  
“It was a stirring speech,” smiled Ki ali mundi, “and the Chancellor recognises that our support is necessary if the Republic is to stand together to defeat the CLONE. He tells us that he wishes to develop closer links between the Senate and the Jedi to accomplish this.”  
“I look forward to hearing his suggestions,” said Obi-wan thoughtfully, wondering what the Chancellor might have in mind.

Along with Masters Windu, Shaak Ti and Ki ali Mundi, Obi-wan and Anakin stood in front of the Chancellor’s desk in his public office. Striking in their austere garb, they waited patiently as Palpatine outlined the reason for their assembly.  
“We have gathered you all here,” explained the Chancellor, sat in his imposing, high backed chair, “because of a request from the Senate. They have asked that in this time of strife the Chancellor’s office be seen to be firmly behind the stance we have taken against the CLONE. To this end they have asked that around our person is formed an elite corps, composed of our most courageous Jedi and troops, to create a direct link with High Command and to inspire our armies.”  
“We are honoured that you have chosen our brethren to represent the light and hopes of the Republic at this dark time,” said Shaak Ti graciously, elected to speak on the Jedi’s behalf. Although there was still much debate in the Temple over the Jedi Order’s role, Master Windu, leader of the Council, was prepared to make bridges with the Senate considering the suffering reputation of the Jedi. “We do not take this request lightly your Excellency, and although we understand the motivations of the Senate to create such a body we only ask that the their cause will not conflict in any way with the Jedi’s service to the Order. However, as our aims are one and the same, to restore the Republic to peace and prosperity, we cannot see that this would come to pass.”  
“We understand your concerns Master Ti, and they are duly noted.” Palpatine gestured to Sly Moore, “Then we are of one mind?”  
“We are, Chancellor Palpatine,” and the Jedi with her nodded their assent.  
Smiling, the Chancellor rose from his seat, “Then this calls for a ceremony to seal the taking of their oath for the Republic.”  
“Convened later this day, your honour,” said Senator Organa, “the time we have is only short.”  
“Indeed, indeed,” agreed with the Chancellor, catching Anakin’s eye with his benevolent smile, “they are requested on the front line no doubt. Then we will see to it immediately.”  
As they filed out of the chamber, Anakin asked Obi-wan if he had known of this elite; “Has that had any bearing on my promotion?”  
“Not at all,” said Obi-wan, “you passed all the tests. That is what made you a Knight.”  
“That’s a relief,” admitted Anakin, who despite his impatience to pass the trials was glad it had taken him a year longer than he would have liked. Now it meant all the more to him knowing he had achieved it fairly.  
“What’s this?” smiled Obi-wan, “Anakin Skywalker actually agreeing with Council procedure?”  
He suddenly grinned, “I know, I can be difficult at times. But I admit, it feels good to know I have been through the proper process.”  
Wondering where this rare display of humility was coming from, Obi-wan patted Anakin on the back, “I’d like to congratulate you on your newfound maturity, maybe you will make it to Jedi Master one day?”  
“One day,” avowed Anakin, his eyes shining.

The Ceremony took place on the steps of the Senate building, huge crowds gathering to see the Jedi whom the Chancellor had chosen to be the face of the Republic’s fight against the enemies ranged against it. Standing at the top of steps, their robes fluttering in the slight breeze, the Jedi swore upon their laser swords not only to uphold their oaths as Jedi but a new oath for the Republic. Their strident voices rang out clearly across the assembled masses as they took their pledge: “We swear to bring hope where there is none; to bring peace where chaos reigns; to free those who are in chains; above all we swear to save the Republic and restore it to glory.” Watching the ceremony from one of the balconies hastily erected for the occasion, Padmé Amidala dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

A twenty-four hour city for its 368 days of the year, Coruscant was as busy in the late hours of the night as it was in the afternoon. Shops were open, spilling gaudy lights onto the street, people thronged the streets going about their business, whether to work or play. Hardly any of them noticed the cloaked figure making his way through the shadows, and the figure hardly noticed them. It was that kind of city. Finally the figure reached its destination, a row of apartment blocks reserved for the richest and most powerful in Coruscant society; most of them were in darkness; one or two windows were bathed in light otherwise only the soft glow of emergency lighting revealed that it was occupied at all. Carefully, the figure began to climb nimbly up the emergency stairwell, obviously not a normal resident, until it reached one of the verandas on the north side of the building. Climbing over, the figure went over to the doors leading into the apartment and tried them. Finding they were locked, the figure placed their hands on the doors for a moment and concentrated. With a small click, the doors opened and the figure slipped inside. Inside the dark room, the figure walked softly across the polished floor, heading towards a set of doors at the far end. Sensing a presence just outside the room the figure paused, creating a blanket of silence about itself; after a moment the interest declined and the figure continued towards the end of the room. At the door the figure paused, trying to sense the atmosphere of the room behind it; it whispered back peaceful slumber and soft breathing. Quickly, the figure had the door open and was inside the room. Softly approaching the bed, the figure knelt down beside it for a moment, reaching into its cloak.…  
“Lights,” came a female voice, flooding the room with bright light and surprising the intruder. Padmé was sat up in bed, a blaster in her hand, pointing it straight at the cloaked figure. “Put your hands up!”  
“It’s okay,” said a muffled voice.  
“Put your hands in the air,” commanded Padmé, watching the figure warily, “I’m not afraid to use this.”  
As the figure raised their hands, conveniently at the same time they pushed back their hood, revealing the amused face of Anakin Skywalker. “Your security has improved, my lady.”  
“Anakin?” For a moment Padmé felt embarrassed, then she was angry, “What are you doing sneaking into my room? I thought you were an assassin!”  
“I wanted to surprise you,” explained Anakin, “can I put my hands down now?”  
“You certainly did that,” replied Padmé, grinning despite herself. “But it was silly of you, what if I had blown your head off?”  
Rolling his eyes, Anakin got up from the floor, “Then you would have had a lot of explaining to do. But seriously,” he went on, sitting down next to her on the bed, “you need to have a word with your security. It wasn’t that hard to get in here.”  
“I don’t think they are accustomed to Jedi tampering,” she frowned, smoothing her curls back from her face.  
“They are easily distracted.”  
“Or just susceptible to Jedi illusions?”  
“Both. So how is my favourite Senator?”  
“Much better now you’re here.” Wrapping her arms around him, she felt her tensions disappear, “You’ve been gone forever.”  
“It felt like it,” he sighed, wondering how he had ever been able to let her go. It always surprised him how peaceful he felt in her company, she had an affect on him like nobody else.  
“I heard you averted an uprising.”  
“No that was Obi-wan,” said Anakin modestly, “I was only there for support.”  
“I am sure your presence helped,” she smiled. “I saw you today, at the Senate.”  
He patted her curls; “Then you know…” she was touching the singed patch of hair behind his ear, the gentle feel of her fingers distracted him, “…what I came to tell you.” Reaching into his cloak he pulled from it a small bundle wrapped in coarse cloth and handed it to her.  
She opened the cloth bundle to look at the braid of hair that lay there, blackened at one end where the lightsaber’s blade had caught it. Knowing what it signalled she looked at him proudly. “So now you are a proper Jedi Knight!”  
“Yes and my new cause is to help improve Senator and Jedi relations.”  
“I won’t disagree with that,” laughed Padmé. “They’ve been somewhat missing of late.”

The investigations into the formation of the army were proceeding, but with agonising slowness. With the growing numbers of Dark Jedi and the assumption that they had been trained by Dooku, added to the intelligence gathered by Master Kenobi, the Council had concluded that the Count was the mastermind behind the Army, created to tip the Republic into war and create the ideal conditions for the return of the Sith. The fact that he coerced Syfo Dyas into helping him meant that his deceit must stretch back years. However there was still the burning question for the Council of whom had seduced Dooku. The Sith that Anakin faced, her body eventually recovered from where she had fallen in the dense jungles of Raxus Prime, was judged to have been too young, too inexperienced to be the Dark Lord they so eagerly sought. There must be another and the Council decided that they must focus all efforts on locating, and destroying, this Sith, if such a being existed. After all, knowing the tendency of the Sith to destroy each other, this may already have been accomplished by Dooku.  
In the meantime, evidence that Dooku had been journeying to and from Coruscant after his exit from the Order raised fresh embarrassment for the Council. The evidence had been found quite by mistake after a horrific assault had taken place inside an abandoned warehouse. A piece of material that could only have come from a Jedi cloak had been found at the scene, which immediately placed a Jedi as the main suspect. Evidence of landing patterns that could be made by only one type of ship, sail-barges designed on Serrano the home planet of Count Dooku, added fuel to the rumours. Checking the security cameras for evidence of the assault had also revealed a strange blur on the images which, in many respects, resembled a tall, cloaked figure. Count Dooku was known to be above average height, even for a Jedi. Although the Jedi were eventually exonerated from their involvement in the assault, as other evidence pointed to a more compelling perpetrator, the mystery of Dooku’s seeming presence in the warehouse remained.  
“The analysis suggests that the older marks on the ground were clearly made in the days following the Battle of Geonosis,” Obi-wan explained to the Jedi Council, holding fresh evidence from the security laboratories, “and another two landings were made subsequently, at irregular intervals.”  
“This is interesting,” Mace looked thoughtfully at the two Jedi, “I wonder why Dooku would be returning to Coruscant?”  
“To meet with someone perhaps,” suggested Ki ali mundi; there was some suspicion that Dooku continued to have a source of information on Coruscant which enabled him to stay one step ahead of the Republic’s campaigns.  
“They were careful enough to eradicate all traces of their movements,” said Obi-wan regrettably, “however a through search of the area may elicit more clues.”  
“We will endeavour to continue your sterling work,” said Mace, glancing again at the ghostly image set against the dark background of the warehouse. It was perfect for subterfuge, a forgotten part of the city-planet. “However, the High Command has a new assignment for you as befitting your new status. Republic intelligence reports that Korriban is being used as a command centre for the CLONE to carry out raids on nearby systems,” Mace regarded them both. “We want you to go to Korriban and contain the CLONE threat. Admiral Organa has secured two battalions of Republic troops to accompany you.”  
It sounded like a routine mission and Anakin was about to say so when something in Master Windu’s manner convinced him to wait.  
“Whilst you are there, we also want you to see if you can find any remains of Syfo-Dyas in the Sith Temple,” continued the Jedi Master, “anything that might suggest what happened to him.”  
That was more like it. Obi-wan glanced at Anakin, “We are certainly honoured to have been given this mission.”  
“Long we have thought about his implication in the army,” said Mace sombrely, “it suggests to us a plot. A plot to bring the Republic into war.”  
“By framing the Jedi,” said Obi-wan.  
“Yes, Dooku was clearly taking advantage of the change in atmosphere within the Senate. Before the CLONE it would be unthinkable that we would have progressed to the situation where the Republic is not only at war but seeks to further strengthen its control on Core territories.”  
“I agree,” said Obi-wan, “but for the lone voices of Senators like our dear friend Padmé Amidala there would be nobody to oppose these changes or create any debate on the matter.”  
Since he had returned to Coruscant, Anakin had become aware that Padmé had been speaking out against the changes in the constitution. Whilst he admired her for her courage and tenacity in speaking out against what she saw as undemocratic, he was worried that she was inviting yet more negative attention for her political views. The conversation turned back to the forthcoming assignment and Anakin shifted his attention away from worrying about his love and back to the matter at hand.  
“Admiral Organa assures me your troops will be ready. He will give you more details of the mission should you need them.”  
“We should,” replied Obi-wan, “we will contact him immediately.”  
“Our hopes and the Force go with you both,” said Mace, leaning back in his chair. They were dismissed.

Senator Bail Organa, Viceroy of Alderaan and Admiral of the Grand Republic Army greeted the two Jedi warmly. “I am glad that you could attend to this matter so soon, it may be a significant breakthrough if we can find the whereabouts of the CLONE leaders.”  
“Do you think that both Dooku and Grievous are on Korriban?” Obi-wan was studying an illuminated map of the system closely.  
“We have not been able to substantiate those reports, but we have obtained an image of what we think is their command cell,” replied the Senator, searching amongst the piles of campaign notes, maps and reports on his desk. “Here it is.” He handed Obi-wan a flimplast showing what looked like some kind of blurred reconnaissance image. “It’s not very clear I’m afraid.”  
Obi-wan passed it to Anakin. “Looks like it’s heavily fortified.”  
“That is why we assumed it is of some importance,” replied the Senator, “at any rate attacks in that area appear to be co-ordinated from Korriban.”  
“And its reputation would be enough to prevent anyone wanting to go and find out,” added Anakin. “It looks like it’s on the site of the old Jedi Temple.”  
Obi-wan looked at Anakin in surprise, “How would you know that?”  
“I read about the history of Korriban,” said Anakin matter-of-factly, “and as this schematic shows, the layout of the command centre is similar to the Temple here on Coruscant. That will surely help us.”  
Embarrassed by his failure to notice the similarity, Obi-wan tried to cover it with a smile, “I am glad to see you use your leisure time profitably.”  
“Oh no, you’ll need to keep that,” urged Organa as Anakin tried to give him the flimplast back, “it’s got the co-ordinates you need. I haven’t sent them to the battalions that will be accompanying you for reasons of security.”  
“Why?”  
“We’re not entirely sure but it seems that some of our troops have been… how should I put it? Expected.”  
“Expected?” Both Obi-wan and Anakin looked at him in interest.  
“Yes, many times we have followed leads to Dooku and each time we arrive all trace has been eradicated.”  
“Could it not be the fault of intelligence?” asked Anakin.  
“It’s happened too many times, Anakin, for it to be our intelligence, they are usually very precise.”  
“Do you think that somebody has been warning them of our approach?” Obi-wan felt warning bells inside his head; he imagined the CLONE would have spies everywhere but to have one so close to High Command was alarming. Just who was Dooku meeting on Coruscant? He thought back to Geonosis when Dooku had suggested that there was a Sith Lord on Coruscant, manipulating the Senate. It couldn’t have been true, could it?  
“That is what we suspect,” sighed Bail, leaning back in his chair, “and it is not a comforting thought. Although with the co-ordinates in your hands alone I do not fear so much.” Switching off the illuminated map, he stood up. “I can take you to the stores now, we can ensure that your equipment is loaded and your ships ready for the morrow when the troops are mustered. There have been no further reports of CLONE activity in the system but I assume you will wish to take smaller ships for yourselves?”  
Anakin nodded, “I would prefer it, Admiral.”  
Obi-wan was less sure but he did not want to advertise his reluctance, “It would be for the best, in case anything should happen we will attract less attention.”  
“Very well.” Organa pressed the comlink on his desk, “Haari, please can you arrange transport for the two Jedi and myself… To the equipment stores. Thank you.” He turned back to the two Jedi, “A speeder will be along in a moment, shall we wait outside?”  
The intercom buzzed again, “Yes?”  
“My lord, Senator Amidala is here.”  
“Senator Amidala?”  
“She says that you were expecting her?”  
“Oh, of course,” Bail suddenly remembered his conversation with Padmé the day before, “I quite forgot, tell her I’ll be down in a moment.”  
“Certainly, Sir.”  
The Senator turned to the two Jedi apologetically, “Sorry, I forgot that I was supposed to be discussing with Senator Amidala our response to the revised changes to the constitution. It will only take a few moments whilst I rearrange things with her.”  
They came down to the entrance lobby, finding Padmé waiting quietly by the Reception desk. She was reading a pamphlet about forthcoming attractions to the opera house.  
“My lady, I am so sorry,” said Bail, hurrying over to where she was standing. “I completely forgot about our meeting.”  
“I’m not surprised considering how busy you are,” she began, then halted, seeing the two Jedi behind him. “Master Kenobi, Anakin,” she said, bestowing them with a particularly radiant smile.  
“Senator Amidala,” replied Obi-wan, bowing politely. “It is good to see you looking so well.”  
“It is an unexpected pleasure to see you, both of you.”  
“I’m afraid we will need to postpone our meeting,” smiled Bail apologetically, taking Padmé’s slim hand, “there’s been an unexpected development.”  
“I see.” If her eyes were clouded with disappointment, she retained her pleasant disposition, “that is unfortunate.”  
“It is, my lady. I must take Master Obi-wan and Anakin here to the equipment store, I’m sorry I completely forgot. Will you be able to return later?”  
“No, I cannot I have another engagement later,” continued Padmé, “we can continue our talks another day?”  
“Why don’t you come with us, my lady?” Obi-wan suggested. He was interested in her views on the changes to the Senate and wanted to find out more. “It will not take long for Admiral Organa to show us the equipment we need, you could speak with each other then?”  
“A good idea, Master Kenobi.” With increasing demands on everyones’ time, it was becoming more and more difficult to resolve anything.  
As the two groups walked towards the transports together, Anakin had managed to manoeuvre himself so that he was walking next to Padmé. They were discussing the changes in the constitution, which provided a perfect opportunity to speak to her. “My lady, I have heard that you are in opposition to some of the recent measures imposed by the Senate.”  
“I believe that many of the changes of the constitution go further than I would like, if that is what you allude to. Although I cannot deny that the creation of the Grand Army and the granting of emergency powers to the Chancellor has done much to advance our cause, I feel that it has been a mistake not to reopen negotiations with the CLONE or Count Dooku at least.”  
“But you must be aware that Count Dooku is refusing to negotiate,” said Anakin, “which rather puts a dampener on the idea.”  
“Yet we must allow them to see that we are at least willing,” countered Padmé, who was never tired of debating the matter, “by cutting off all negotiations we have paved the way for further aggression. It only leads to a circle of violence.”  
“Meanwhile our freedom suffers all the more,” said Bail, “the Senate has insisted that security is tightened further.”  
“Now all Senators not directly involved in the war are unable to leave Coruscant without applying for permission from the Chancellor’s office, and then it will only be issued in extreme circumstances,” said Padmé, the tension growing in her voice. “So we are unable to consult with the very people we are supposed to be representing.” Even her request to return to Naboo had been prevented by personal intervention from the Chancellor.  
“I think that’s reasonable,” replied Anakin, understanding her alarm but willing to accept that in times of war life would be disrupted, “with all the activity in the system it is much safer for you to remain on Coruscant, and most communication can be carried out over distance…”  
“What you say is true, Anakin” said Bail, “however Senator Amidala and I are of the opinion that some measures are less essential and that we need to curb the enthusiasm of the Senate in seeking further restrictions. We seek to obtain the Chancellor’s word that these changes are necessary and will be lifted as soon as the immediate threat has dissipated.”  
“The changes to the Constitution in particular are unacceptable,” said Padmé heatedly, “there are certain Senators who seem determined to take advantage of the situation and undermine the very foundations of the Republic. Fewer and fewer senators are prepared to speak out against such abuse.”  
“They are too afraid to speak out,” added Bail, “we have lost much of our free speech in the name of security.”  
“Have you tried to speak to the Chancellor in person?” asked Obi-wan, sensing the strain she was under, “I am sure that if you went to him he would put your mind at ease.”  
“I have been trying to see the Chancellor for weeks,” sighed Padmé. “But every time I manage to fix an appointment something else comes up and he is unable to see me.”  
“I am surprised, you are very close to him are you not?”  
“In the sense that his family are from Naboo and I have known him since I was young. For some years he was my mentor but I would not say I have been close to him since he became Chancellor.” In unconscious ways Padmé was seeking to distance herself from the Chancellor now that his political path seemed directly opposed to hers.  
“He does respect you, my lady,” said Anakin confidently, “I am sure that he would listen to your concerns.”  
“I know.” Padmé knew it was difficult for her to censure the Chancellor; after all he was a victim of circumstance as they all were. “All we can do is to ensure that the Chancellor is aware that not all senators support these attacks on our ideals. We are not sure what the motives are but there seems to be an outspoken minority who are determined to do all they can to bring down the Republic and use these wars as an excuse to tighten their grip on vulnerable star systems.”  
As they climbed into the transport and resumed their journey, Obi-wan looked with concern at Padmé “I did not realise that feelings ran so high amongst senators, my lady.”  
“Only with a minority,” cautioned Organa, “most of the Senate are content to accept the measures without question.”  
Anakin looked at her with concern, agreeing with Obi-wan, “If only the Chancellor could see your fears he would ensure that the motives of these senators were laid open to scrutiny. I know that he would be as concerned as you for the continuing survival of the Republic.”  
“I am sure that he would,” replied Padmé, realising she was not in the Senate now and should try to curb her zeal. “I cannot help but feel that events are continually overtaking us, we have not had time to deal with one crisis before another occurs.”  
Obi-wan could share her feelings of helplessness, “Indeed my lady, this is not only felt by the Senate, the Jedi Council too are still reeling from the events that have led to this war.”  
“Very difficult times lie ahead,” added Bail solemnly, “we can be assured of that.”  
Landing at their destination, the speeder doors opened and Anakin climbed out first, offering Padmé his hand politely.  
“Let me help you, my lady.”  
As she got out, he drew close her for a moment and whispered, “I love you,” just as Obi-wan was getting out the speeder.  
“Anakin!” Padmé could not hide her surprise.  
Neither could Obi-wan help noticing, seeing her mood abruptly change, “Are you alright my lady?”  
“Anakin just told me the most funniest thing,” said Padmé hurriedly, thinking on her feet.  
“It is shame he did not wish to share it with all of us.”  
“It was not that funny,” replied Anakin, trying to keep a straight face, “I was merely saying to the Senator that on Tatooine we…”  
“We need to see your identification,” a voice suddenly interrupted. Two guards approached, wearing the all-encompassing armour of the Republican Army.  
After a moment all four of them waved their IDs at the guards. An increasing feature of the Republic was the insistence on ID to move around the city, each area designated into different zones and different restrictions. Senators and Jedi were exempt from most restrictions, able to move about at will, although they were still liable to prove their identity.  
“Docking bay 678 has been reserved for you, your Honour,” said the guard, reading from an electronic screen, “I trust you will find it suitable.”  
“Thank you,” said Bail Organa, “we can find it ourselves,” he added as the Guard looked about to summon an aide.  
“Very good your Excellency, may I remind you that we are currently operating a curfew as from twenty one hundred hours, for reasons of security.”  
“Of course, thank you.” Senator Organa led them down the ramp and along the walkway that led around the edge of the colossal series of docking bays that formed part of the complex. Looking over the edge, his companions could see activity of all kinds happening below them; weapons and armaments being loaded onto ships, repairs and malfunctions corrected; refuelling. Everywhere personnel were scurrying about, pilots, mechanics, troops and commanders; several passed them on the walkway, saluting the Admiral and his group with courtesy.  
Anakin noticed that Padmé was trailing further and further behind the rest of the group. Slowing down to match her speed, soon they were lagging behind the other two, and Anakin felt certain that his Master was out of earshot. “What is this engagement that you have this evening, Senator?”  
“Engagement?” Padmé looked puzzled for a moment, then she remembered, “Oh yes, with a very handsome Jedi Knight if he is available.”  
“Whoever he is I shall have to tell him that you are already spoken for.”  
Stepping round a protruding pillar, Padmé smiled, looking very winsome. “You’re invited too of course.”  
He was having to walk backwards because the walkway had suddenly got very narrow, “I imagine Obi-wan will want to discuss tactics but I can make some excuse to get away, but I’ll have to leave before morning as we are leaving tomorrow…”  
“You’re going tomorrow?” She was startled by the sudden brevity of their time together but had little time to dwell on it as she noticed Obi-wan was watching them. “Anakin…”  
The young man turned round to see Obi-wan and Bail waiting for them at the end of the platform.  
“Come on you two,” Obi-wan called, wondering if he should be concerned about how the two young people had conveniently ended up alone together, “keep up.”  
Increasing their pace, Padmé and Anakin soon reached Obi-wan and Bail, who were looking at them curiously.  
“Ever since I met these two,” said Obi-wan to Bail, his face deadly serious, “I find myself having to keep an eye on them. They always seem to be plotting some mischief together.”  
“Mischief?” Padmé looked at Obi-wan all wide eyed innocence, “Master Obi-wan I am surprised that you of all people could be so sceptical, Anakin was merely telling me his good news.”  
It seemed plausible enough and Obi-wan felt embarrassed that he had been so suspicious, “Ah yes.”  
“A Jedi Knight as well as a member of our elite squadron,” said Bail, smiling at the young man whom he always thought had shown so much promise. “I imagine we will be calling you Master Skywalker from now on.”  
“Oh no,” said Obi-wan before Anakin could reply, “A Jedi Master is quite distinct from a Knight.”  
“Really?” He looked amused, “Then I have been calling every Jedi I meet Master in error.”  
“Well it is not always so strict,” commented Obi-wan, who knew he would only confuse matters further, “we tend to use Master more flexibly these days as a term of respect for all Jedi.”  
“Except for padawan learners,” said Anakin with a straight face, “they do not get any respect.”  
“They need to earn respect,” replied Obi-wan briskly, “anyway aren’t we forgetting the reason why we are here?”  
They descended into the bare, functional pit that contained the massive Republic battle cruiser. Newly arrived from the Sluis Van shipyards, it was bristling with wicked looking guns and painted with the bright logo of the Republic. Even Padmé regarded it with awe.  
Bail handed Obi-wan his entry card for the equipment store. “I imagine that you will not need my supervision.”  
“No, Commander, I will be relying on Anakin’s judgement,” said Obi-wan, much to the young man’s amusement, “he is much more capable at resourcing an army than I am.”  
Whilst Obi-wan and Anakin went off to sort out the weapons and equipment they would need to take with them, Bail and Padmé found a seat to the side of the manic preparations around them to discuss their proposal for the Senate.

When the two Jedi returned, after several hours of choosing weapons, studying equipment and meeting their battalion to decide on details for the mission, they found Padmé and Bail to have abandoned their discussion, instead they were chatting to one of the pilots.  
“These senators always give the impression of working hard,” said Obi-wan jocularly, “when in reality they do little but talk.”  
They came over to join the small group gathered at the entrance of the cruiser, just as the pilot disappeared up the ramp into the depths of the ship. From inside could be heard the muted sound of alarms.  
“I hope that is nothing serious,” commented Obi-wan, who hated the realities of space travel as it was without the complications of malfunctions.  
“They are having some teething trouble,” replied Bail Organa, “but no, it is nothing serious. This type of ship is very new, only just developed.”  
“We will not even be in it Master,” said Anakin, gesturing towards their sleek Jedi fighters to the other side of the docking bay, “so if they are having some trouble it will not affect our travel.”  
“Indeed,” replied Obi-wan, still feeling a sense of unease. Maybe it was the thought of going to Korriban, which had a fearsome reputation. “Everything is ready for tomorrow morning.”  
The Admiral nodded. “I have some bad news. Whilst we have been here there have been reports of explosions near 300 Republica. They are contained but there might be more, security are checking the area as we speak.” Near the heart of the government district, he knew it was a zone that they might pass through to return to the Temple.  
“Thank you,” replied Obi-wan, glancing over to Anakin, “we will certainly avoid that area.”  
But Anakin thought he recognised the number, “Isn’t that near your apartment, my lady? Surely it will not be safe?”  
“We have not heard any reports of an evacuation,” said Padmé briskly, not betraying any anxiety. “Besides we can take an alternative route to avoid that district.”  
“You are going to risk returning?” replied Anakin, admiring her strength but also concerned that these explosions had the aura of terrorism. “Master Obi-wan,” he turned back to his mentor, “surely we can escort the Senator to ensure that she has additional protection?”  
“Yes, you must allow the Jedi to escort you,” said Bail to Padmé. He had already tried unsuccessfully to persuade the Senator to remove herself to alternative accommodation but to little avail.  
All eyes were on Obi-wan, who had already decided that it was a suitable course of action, only he could not be a part of it. “I urgently need to return to the Temple but there is no reason why Anakin could not provide the Senator with an escort.” He looked at the young woman, who stood patiently waiting for a decision. “Is that agreeable with you, my lady?”  
“As long as it does not interfere with Anakin’s plans,” said Padmé, not wishing to appear too eager for the younger Jedi’s company, “I can contact Captain Typho and have him send additional security.”  
“I have no definite plans,” said Anakin helpfully. It had been his plan to arrange some additional combat practice but that could easily be put aside.  
“It would give me peace of mind, my lady, to know that Anakin would be escorting you,” replied Bail, who had taken the young Senator under his wing ever since it transpired that they had a similar political vision for the Republic. Almost twice the age of the Senator, he felt a fatherly concern for her wellbeing.  
“Then we are settled” said Obi-wan, concerned, as was Anakin, that these mysterious explosions could be evidence of Dooku’s activity on Coruscant. He sent a subtle message to his companion, Find out as much as you can, Anakin, about these explosions. The Council will need to know.  
Yes Master; the young man was eager for a new investigation.  
“Very well,” said Padmé brightly, eager to be on her way, it was getting late and she had achieved very little. “Thank you Senator for being available to discuss our strategy, I will make a record of it this evening and have a copy sent over to you.”  
“Very well, my lady, I am only sorry that we caused so much fuss over your leaving,” said Bail sympathetically, knowing she felt her independence was already being eroded by the decisions of the Executive “but we will all feel better to know that you are safe. And now that the matter is settled I will go and arrange your transport immediately.”

Senator Amidala and the young Jedi Knight stood looking out the window of her apartment, watching the burning towers of 300 Republica start to collapse as the fireships fought to contain the blaze. The night-time sky was stained variously orange and red as the flames raged, consuming the building with their bright, fiery fingers, smoke billowing out wherever their lethal touch found purchase. With a huge crash, one of the towers suddenly imploded under its own weight, unable to support itself, shattering as it fell hundreds of feet to the streets below and raining down wasted glass and metal in a million, trillion fragments.  
The windows rattled with the impact and Padmé flinched, moving backwards despite the dangers being streets away, “I wonder what caused this?” To have a threat so close, right in the central district of Coruscant, filled her with fresh alarm as to how the Senate would react. It was bound to enforce new restrictions.  
“The Jedi will investigate.” Anakin put his arm around her, drawing her close to him as if to protect her. “Maybe it was a simple energy explosion, some of the heating systems around here are quite antiquated.” Including those of the Jedi Temple.  
Nestled against him, she felt comforted, a sanctuary in his arms, “I hope that it is something simple and not another example of CLONE treachery.”  
He went back to watching the dramatic collapse. It fascinated him, the destructive power of fire that they could scarcely contain, even with all their technology. “There is something strangely beautiful about it, don’t you think?”  
“Not really,” said Padmé, looking at him curiously. “It’s terrible for those who live there.”  
“Yes, it will be,” replied Anakin hastily; it had not been his intention to sound like he did not care about the lives of those the explosion must have affected. “They will lose everything.”  
“I remember seeing the damage on Ilium, caused by the bombing raids,” said Padmé forlornly. “All the buildings that had been ripped apart. There was nothing left but the craters filled with the remains of people’s lives.”  
For Anakin, absently stroking her hair, it had become part of the reality of war. He had seen the horror of it for himself on Raxus Prime, Concord Dawn and the other systems caught up with the fight against the CLONE and the Separatists. He wondered if he was becoming immune to the suffering, “There is much suffering, my love, we can only hope that the Force will give comfort to those who need it.”  
His calming words made her wish that she had as much faith in a higher power as the Jedi found in the Force.  
“Is something troubling you?” He could feel her anxiety and stress radiating out into the room, disturbing the tranquility.  
“Not really,” bluffed Padmé, feeling under scrutiny.  
“You were anxious earlier when we were talking about the Senate,” he said gently, not wishing to seem as though he had been prying into her mind, “and you are still anxious about it now.”  
A gentle blush spread across her cheeks, “It is an issue of concern that I share with Senator Organa. This war is causing the Senate to panic and measures that we never thought would be considered are being implemented. But, having discussed this with the Senator, we think as long as we continue to ensure that all changes are debated thoroughly and all arguments examined, we will weather this conflict without damaging the integrity of the Republic.”  
He was amazed at her change of heart and he told her so.  
Padmé smiled, “I was getting carried away. Senator Organa has convinced me that we can still have influence within the Senate and putting things into perspective, I realise that there is still hope.”  
They sat together for a while before Anakin had to return to the Jedi Temple, talking about his imminent mission, and reminiscing about the happier times in their past. They were so comfortable in each others presence that time seemed to march on relentlessly and the hours passed by without either of them noticing until Anakin’s wrist-strap bleeped softly. Checking it, he saw that it was only an hour before the Temple curfew came into force. “I better leave.”  
“Is it that time already?” asked Padmé sleepily, loathe to have to let him go.  
“At least with all this coming and going,” he said, taking her in his arms for one last embrace, “we won’t ever have time to argue.”  
“Who says we don’t?”  
“Very funny.” Turning serious, he looked at her for a long moment. “Promise me, you’ll keep safe whilst I’m away. I need you Padmé and if anything should happen to you-”  
“I’ll always be here,” she promised. Like him, she knew that her future happiness relied on them always being together; already she could not imagine the poverty of life without him at her side.  
As Anakin got ready to leave, Padmé went over to the window and manipulated the controls until she could see out of the darkened glass. The fire in the skyscraper had died out finally, leaving a dark, ragged outline against the sky. She thought she might go to the refuge in the morning, visit the families, maybe take them some clothes and blankets. Turning at a noise, she saw Anakin was coming towards her, wrapped in his dark cloak. “The fire’s out.”  
“Good,” he came to stand with her at the window. “Hopefully the danger will have passed.” He kissed her affectionately.  
She felt the familiar sorrow of parting welling in her heart. “Promise me that you’ll be careful!”  
“I promise. Besides I have Obi-wan to look after me.” Although he knew she had her guards, he wished he could be more certain of her safety. However, he knew that others, including Senator Organa, would be looking out for her; “You think I like leaving you here?”  
“You said yourself that I was safer here.”  
“I know but that was before the explosions.”  
She did not like all the fuss about her safety, “You better leave, or you’ll miss your curfew!”  
“Ah, trying to get rid of me now,” he laughed, before kissing her once more. “I love you.”  
“I love you too.” She watched as he left, gazing after his cloaked form until he was far out of sight.

“Good morning Anakin,” said Obi-wan as he met the young man outside his sleeping quarters. It did not look like the Jedi had slept well, there were dark shadows under his eyes despite his otherwise calm demeanour. They started down the corridor, very quiet at that time in the morning.  
“Are you alright?”  
“I didn’t sleep well,” replied Anakin, confirming his friend’s suspicions. His sleep had been disturbed by unsettling dreams that made little sense to him. Most of them seemed to involve him falling through a mist... 

...until at last he slowed down and in front of him a shape was forming in the distance…who was it? It looked like Master Windu but everything was so distorted he couldn’t be sure; he seemed to be shouting something but Anakin couldn’t hear what he was saying, brandishing his lightsaber against something… against someone. But who was it? It was too dark and try as he might he couldn’t see but the shouting was more and more insistent, what were they shouting? We must keep him… alive… he must be kept alive… noooooo…

“I slept like a log,” said Obi-wan unhelpfully, “have you been doing your meditations as suggested?”  
“Yes,” replied Anakin, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sense of grit, “but last night I forgot.”  
“It must have been the excitement of seeing Senator Amidala” said Obi-wan teasingly.  
In a fragile state, Anakin could not help betraying his feelings on that matter but he tried to hide it, “And seeing the damage done to 300 Republica, it was pretty messy.”  
“You care very much for the Senator,” said Obi-wan gently, wondering if he had been too blasé in the past about allowing them to spend time together. “As long as it is no more than that-”  
The statement was left hanging on the air for a moment before Anakin replied, “Of course not, Obi-wan. I understand what is expected of me.”  
“Perhaps you should try less excitement, then, and a cup of hot cocoa before bed.” It was not a good idea to press the young man, Obi-wan could sense the turmoil in his head.  
Anakin pulled a face, “Maybe if I reached the age of Master Yoda! You’ll be telling me to have a hot bath next.”  
“I don’t know what you mean Anakin,” replied Obi-wan, pretending to look hurt, “it always works for me.” He pressed the command for the elevator, the gears cranking into action. “But I’m only concerned for you, this insomnia has been going on for a long time.”  
“I know.” he sighed, feeling that whilst he was grateful to the Force for giving him great strength and power, it also knew how to reduce him to a trembling wreck; “Hopefully this mission will give me something new to think about.”  
With a small clang, the elevator announced itself. Getting in, the Jedi remained silent as the lift made its way rapidly to a lower floor. Eventually it slowed down and stopped, announcing its arrival with a small clunk. The elevator doors slid open and the two men strode out into the Hall of Echoes, their footsteps resounding in the morning tranquility.  
“Did you find out any more about the concern that Senator Amidala has for the changes in the Senate?”  
“I did,” said Anakin wearily, “she is particularly single minded on that issue.”  
“You don’t approve?” Obi-wan looked at the young man with some surprise.  
“Changes are necessary at a time of war,” said Anakin simply, “and the Senate cannot act normally in this unusual situation. I would have thought the Senator understood that.”  
“But she is very different to the usual politician who is only content to increase their own power,” remarked Obi-wan, his own prejudices emerging in response to Anakin’s acceptance of political expediency. “All she thinks about is helping others and maintaining justice and democracy. It really is refreshing.”  
“Are you telling me that Senator Amidala has softened your opinion of politicians?”  
“Her and a few others,” admitted Obi-wan, nodding thoughtfully, “But only a few. Senators like Padmé are only a minority it seems. Not only is she very determined not to let this war affect her, she is committed to pursuing her aim of reopening negotiations, quite against the desires of most of the Senate.”  
“The Senator is very devoted to her cause,” said Anakin, thinking what Obi-wan referred to was the potentially dangerous zeal he had seen in Padmé, “but this time I think she is going too far. She risks alienating those who might support her. She has been a target of the CLONE in the past and I am surprised that she is putting herself into a very vulnerable position again.”  
“Have you told the Senator this?”  
“Not in so many words.”  
“Will it make a difference though? Senator Amidala appears to have the same affliction as you,” said Obi-wan blithely, “a tendency to flout concerns raised by those who care about her welfare.”  
“We are alike in some ways, I agree,” smiled Anakin; he might also have cited her stubbornness, lack of concern for her own safety and propensity to act recklessly in times of stress.  
“But if she listens to anyone, Senator Amidala will listen to you. I have noticed that she takes very careful notice of everything you say.” Obi-wan was trying hard not to laugh.  
“Oh, I thought it was because she found me attractive,” grinned Anakin, realising that Obi-wan was poking fun at him.  
“I wouldn’t know about that,” conceded Obi-wan. Despite the young man’s evident lack of sleep he was pleased to see Anakin return to good sorts.

“I do hope we have made the right decision sending Obi-wan and Anakin to Korriban. So many of our Order have been sent there, only to not come back.” Jocasta Nu was looking with concern at one of the ancient tomes from the Jedi Archives. Its cracked and peeling leather cover attested to its great age, the stained and musty pages turned carefully by the Jedi Master.  
Mace Windu sat next to her, leaning his chin against his hand, “If they are as strong in the Force as we believe them to be, they will survive Korriban.”  
The Sith Temple of Korriban was an ancient structure, more ancient than the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Sunk into rock that resonated with the dark side of the Force, the Temple was largely a series of caves underground with only the shattered ruins of a once-grandiose complex above ground. Before the birth of the Republic, the wars between the Jedi and Sith that had spawned it had led to the destruction of the Temple as far as the Jedi had been able; they had ruined and filled in the tunnels, destroyed chronicles and cleansed the dark forces that slumbered below. However, rumours persisted for centuries that there were secrets that the Jedi had never found and the Dark side had never truly been eradicated from the planet; ever since, Korriban had continued to hold a lingering, if dangerous, fascination for many Jedi. The Jedi Council strictly controlled who had access to the planet but even they could not entirely prevent curiosity prevailing. Syfo-Dyas and Dooku had both fallen prey to their curiosity in recent times and they were painfully aware of the risk that Obi-wan and Anakin would be taking.  
Jocasta was having trouble finding the page she was looking for, “We thought Dooku strong in the Force too and yet he left the Council not long after he ventured to the Temple.”  
“He found something there,” replied Mace, “the search for truth is easily clouded by more immediate desires.”  
Finding the relevant page at last, Jocasta turned the chronicle towards him, “Here is the prophecy.”  
Together they looked at the carefully written script, thousands of years old and yet miraculously clear, decorated all around with a riot of colour and imagery whose symbolism had been argued and debated by many Jedi scholars as long as the two Jedi could remember. Yet no satisfactory conclusions had ever been reached over their meaning and there were many interpretations to choose from.  
“I’ll read it aloud,” suggested Mace, leaning forward on his chair. Soon his rich, mesmerising voice filled the quiet chamber as he read aloud the ancient prophecy of the Chosen One:

And in the time of greatest Despair  
There shall come a saviour  
And he shall be known as  
The son of sons  
Bearer of light and darkness

“I still do not understand how finding Anakin Skywalker relates to this prophecy,” murmured Jocasta, “or how it has been interpreted. Why should the two sides of the Force need to be brought into balance? For as long as we have been training Jedi here on Coruscant, we have been teaching that the Dark side can only lead to destruction, that the true power is the light side of the Force.”  
“Anakin has shown great promise since he came to the Temple, and he influences the Force in ways that even I have never seen before,” said the Jedi Master patiently. “Qui-Gon was right to take an interest in him; even if Anakin is only paving the way for the Chosen One there is something extraordinary about him. We need to study the prophecy more carefully and see if we can come to a more subtle understanding of Anakin’s destiny.” A huge pile of books on the table testified to the huge amount of work that would need to be done. “The meaning is obscure at present.”  
“I think I’ll start with Master Jengo-Leeden, he is the most famous of the Prophecy scholars,” suggested Jocasta. She picked up the first book in the pile, opened it and began to read.  
Not underestimating the enormity of their task, Mace took out his eyeglasses, placed them on the end of his nose, and picked another ancient book from the pile.


	6. Danger in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving on Korriban, Anakin and Obi-wan find that the CLONE forces are difficult to budge from the former Jedi Temple, so they explore the surrounding forests. Hidden deep inside they find the remains of another temple, and go underground where ancient voices call to Anakin, leading him and his Master to an important discovery - the remains of the missing Jedi, Syfo Dyas. It leads to the realisation that the former Jedi stumbled on a terrible secret - that there is a Sith Lord behind the growing discord and the fall of Dooku.
> 
> Returning to the siege at the Jedi Temple, the Republic commander clashes with Anakin, who disagrees with their strategy.

'They have forgotten us.'  
The soil sang it in the darkness, the brackish water turned a brownish red whispered it as it found its way into ancient stones, humming with the one intent.  
'But we will return...'  
The shadows, faded with time, trembled where no light came, lay in waiting.  
'...For he is coming.'

“Urgh,” Obi-wan winced as a drop of cold, dank water found its way down his neck, quickly pulling his hood further up over his hair. “I am not sure if this was a good idea!”  
Behind him Anakin, sunk into the depths of his hood, smiled, “Master we’ve been waiting for months for an assignment such as this. And now you’re here you want to leave already?” Yet his flippancy was only superficial. For hours they had been making their way slowly through labyrinthine tunnels in semi-darkness. Like Obi-wan he did not feel comfortable, feeling as though there was something with them in the underground passages. Whether it was tangible or only a feeling was presently open to debate.  
They had arrived on Korriban days earlier in tandem with the large force assembled on Coruscant, taking the CLONE forces in the former Jedi Temple by surprise and preventing them from escaping. Yet despite their success of surrounding the enemy, several days had passed and still the siege was not broken. Seeing there was little they could do until the Temple was breached, the two Jedi had gone to explore Korriban for clues as to the disappearance of Syfo Dyas. And so they had found themselves at the remains of a colossal structure hidden within the deeps of a forest of creeping trees. Above ground there was very little left to indicate what it had once been, only a heap of mouldering ruins submerged beneath clinging vegetation. Yet something had encouraged both Jedi to explore. So they had headed underground, finding an entrance to a series of deserted chambers amongst the fallen masonry.  
At that moment they were investigating a corridor leading down deep into the bowels of the earth. Their only light source – a thick branch lit from the pungent, flammable sap of surrounding trees - cast weird and chaotic shadows across the walls as the flames flickered in the cold breeze that blew through the tunnel. The air was stagnant, a pungent smell of damp earth, damp rock and rotting vegetation. However, the most alarming thing for a Jedi was the loss of their connection to the Force; it was far too dangerous to tap into the Force here because it was imbued with darkness. Instead the Jedi were compelled to become immune to the very thing that marked them out amongst other organics in the Galaxy, to avoid listening to its whisperings and suggestions, to ignore something that was second nature. And that was the real danger of Korriban. Very few Jedi were unable to deny their instincts and as a consequence they fell prey to the dark side.  
As they progressed deeper into the system of tunnels the two Jedi found many strange and wonderful formations. Beneath the strange coloured plants that clung tenaciously to the walls of the cave they found spectacular crystals embedded into the rock; supposing a deep red colour from the minerals of the rocks they glittered and sparkled as the light caught them. Stranger still, here and there the clumps of vegetation seemed to be alive, gently fluorescing and drawing their light from the crystals beneath them. As the Jedi passed them, they pulsated with life, reaching forth with blind feelers towards them.  
“What is this?” Obi-wan took a step backwards as one of the tiny tentacles became a little too curious, probing his cloak with a sticky sucker. “Shoo!”  
“I thought red crystals were synthetic,” commented Anakin. Bathed in the light of the crystals his scar was more pronounced than ever. “But here they grow in abundance.”  
“I think it was only ever an assumption,” suggested Obi-wan, “the Sith have been absent for so many centuries that very little ultimately is known about how they operate.”  
Nodding, Anakin followed him down the tunnel. Ever since they had come underground he had felt a buzzing in his head. At first he had thought it a curious effect of being underground but it only became louder the deeper they went. It was no longer a buzzing, beginning to take coherent shape in the form of strange voices and whispers that sidled into his head. As the crystals around them increased so the more voices he heard, the more insistent they became. Within the walls, within the crystals, he saw faces fleetingly appear, knew it was their whispers in his head telling him of their secrets, only his to know…. He knew he shouldn’t listen to them, he knew but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore them.  
“Master, I…”  
“Anakin?” Obi-wan turned to his friend, immediately seeing his distress, “Anakin, what is it?”  
Inside his head it was reaching a cacophony, threatening to split his skull apart. “The… the voices…” In agony, he clutched at his temples, collapsing to his knees.  
“Oh no!” Placing the burning branch on the ground, Obi-wan was quickly beside the young Jedi. “Stay calm,” he counselled, placing two firm hands on the young man’s shoulders. “Try to think around them.”  
“I… can’t.”  
“Come on Anakin, you can do this. Relax,” he said evenly, massaging his friend’s shoulders. “That’s it, breathe slowly.”  
After a moment Anakin seemed to recover, his ragged gasps of the foul air slowing down to match his mentor’s. Contemplating his near surrender to the voices, he hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry, they overwhelmed me.”  
“Terrible things have been written about this place,” said Obi-wan gravely, watching him closely, “some Jedi have never returned, others have been driven mad by the things they have heard here. Whatever happens Anakin, you must not give into them.” He knew that his own mind was as vulnerable to their subtle suggestions as the younger Jedi. Already he could sense them but they were ethereal, only peripheral to his consciousness. With his strong connection to the Force, it was to be expected that the resonance on the place would affect Anakin more deeply. “Maybe we should return if you are too sensitive?”  
“We’ve come all this way.” Anakin got to his feet cautiously but the voices seemed to have quietened and he can no longer feel such tension, “It would be futile to turn back now.”  
“Not for your presence of mind, Anakin.” The light sputtered as a cold breeze passed through the chamber and Obi-wan felt menace somehow in the surrounding shadows.  
“We should keep going.”  
“If you are sure.”  
“Yes.” He too felt something lurking. It was unsettling him that was all; “They took me by surprise, I’ll be ready for them next time.”  
The corridor narrowed ahead and it was only large enough for them to walk single file. Anakin found himself following behind Obi-wan. The voices had never really gone away and as he walked on they continued to whisper to him. He found that if he concentrated enough he could listen to them, sift through them. Tentatively, he found that after a while he could even control them, decide which ones he wanted to listen to, the others ignore. Some whispered to him of tortuous conspiracies, others spoke to him of history, claiming to be Jedi or Sith of consequence. It got him thinking. “Master, do you think that the voices might reveal anything of use to us?”  
“Are you suggesting that we listen to them?” Obi-wan was incredulous that his friend was even suggesting such a thing, “you know it is not wise to listen to the Sith.”  
“I agree it is risky but it could be beneficial,” insisted Anakin, “and they are not all Sith. They tell me what has happened here. It may reveal to us what happened to Master Syfo-Dyas.”  
Ahead of them the cramped corridor was starting to widen out. “It may be worth a try,” considered Obi-wan, still sceptical, “but are you sure that you are strong enough?”  
“Master,” said Anakin lightly, “is it said that I am to balance the dark and light sides of the Force, if that is true then surely I am strong enough to listen to a few voices?”  
Feeling suddenly irritated by the young man’s tone, Obi-wan launched straight into an attack. “Mind what you say, Anakin Skywalker! We are aware that you may be the Chosen One but exactly how you will balance the two sides of the Force remains open to debate. Until the Council is clear on the matter I suggest that you are more humble where your abilities are concerned. You have only just recently become a Knight.”  
There was a moment’s silence. “Are you alright Obi-wan?” asked Anakin eventually, wondering what had happened to his usually more forgiving friend, “I only thought-”  
“I am sorry Anakin, I don’t know what came over me,” said Obi-wan, wondering if the evil that permeated the place was beginning to affect his temper. “You’re right, you should take heed of any useful information imparted to you, but do be careful, Anakin.” He did not want to lose him to Korriban as they had already lost Dooku.

The damp was suffocating and after a while both Jedi began to feel oppressed in the darkness, the tiny space lit by the eerily flickering light straining their eyes. Yet by following the hints and suggestions given to Anakin they had finally found something of note; a chamber cunningly hidden at the end of the long and winding corridors that they may otherwise have been tramping along for many hours.  
A great archway framed the entrance, stretching at least fives times taller than either Jedi. At each side carved into the dull coloured rock were images of Sith warriors, their sinuous arms pressed up tightly against the roof, as if they were the ones keeping it from collapsing. Their heads were bent down towards those who must pass beneath, their blank eyes watching sightlessly; dressed in flowing robes, curved cortois swords at their sides, the carvings were so intricate Anakin imagined they could almost step down from their plinths. In-between them lay a massive door, made of ebony wood, cracked with age and held together by rusted metal brackets. Above these doors, inscribed into the pediment, was carved an unknown script in flowing characters. The two Jedi approached slowly, awed by the sight before them.  
“What do you think it says?” asked Anakin as they paused beneath the entrance.  
“I don’t know,” Obi-wan had to admit as he held the light up towards the pediment, “it’s not a language I recognise.” He swept the light towards one of the statues, seeing how their eyes glinted in the flames. “Curious.”  
“Let’s go in.” Grabbing the door handle Anakin pulled it back.  
“Anakin, wait!”  
There was an ominous rumbling noise.  
“Watch out!” Obi-wan just pulled him backwards in time as the whole door-frame collapsed, showering dust, fragments of wood and metal over them both. They covered their heads, falling to their knees as the entire section fell away, landing with a crash that echoed and reverberated around the tunnels for a good long while.  
“Well done,” said the elder Jedi once the chaos was over and they could stand up.  
“Sorry,” said Anakin sheepishly, brushing the mess from his hair. “It looked stable.”  
“At least we know its not locked,” smiled Obi-wan, already making his way cautiously inside.  
Beyond the archway they found a scene of devastation. Littering the floor from broken, collapsed bookcases were sodden piles of papers and parchments covered in mould, most of them damaged beyond repair by fire and the omnipresent dripping water. The roof had collapsed, maybe as the result of a titanic struggle in there; plies of masonry and ornate stonework lay where they had fallen, adding to the mess.  
“Looks like it was a library once,” said Obi-wan in hushed tones, carefully picking his way over one of the piles of rubble.  
Anakin felt his mind was his own again. The voices had gone. “This is where they said Syfo-Dyas came.” He picked up one of the more intact pieces of parchment that littered the floor, seeing it was written in a language unknown to him. “Maybe we can find some evidence here?”  
“It doesn’t look very promising.” Obi-wan still felt a strong uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, finding no tangible reason for it. However, his desire for knowledge soon overcame his anxiety.  
Balancing the light in a rusted wall bracket, they started to sift through the piles of rubbish, looking for anything of interest. Although, without any firm idea of what they were looking for it was a largely discouraging task and both Anakin and Obi-wan were on the verge of giving up after a couple of hours.  
Just as he was about to give up sifting through a pile of mainly useless bits of paper, Obi-wan finally made a startling discovery. “Anakin, over here.”  
Wading through rubbish, Anakin joined his Master, who was holding what looked like a tiny chip up to the light, peering at it. “A tracking signal?”  
“Yes.” Every Jedi had one embedded into their body. “It looks like it has been torn out, there’s traces of blood and… tissue on it.” Obi-wan grimaced; he was not very good with gruesome discoveries. “Maybe Syfo-Dyas came to a stickier end than we previously thought?”  
“We can’t be sure it’s his.” Anakin looked at the tiny chip with interest.  
“No,” admitted Obi-wan, putting it into his robes for safe keeping, “we’ll only know for sure once we get back to Coruscant and can have it tested.”  
Returning to his search, Anakin had nearly got to the bottom of one of the piles, and although the paper underneath was in better condition than the horrid clinging pieces that littered his hands and robes he still found nothing that he could understand. Discarding parchment after parchment, his patient searching was finally rewarded when he found something that caused him to call over Obi-wan in high excitement. “Obi-wan! Look at this!”  
Coming over, Obi-wan had a look at what Anakin was making so much fuss about. It was a holocube, damaged but still relatively intact.  
“Well, turn it on then,” he said as Anakin turned it over in his hands.  
“I’m going to.” Pressing the button on the side, the two Jedi watched as an insubstantial image sputtered into existence, eye-shatteringly bright in the gloomy surroundings. It was fractured and shuddered with breaking static but part of a message was still audible. “Master Windu…” they heard clearly, “the evidence…. for you… have found points to…. tence of a Sith… return to Coruscant… ately Master. Danger in the Temple…” The message winked off, the holocube hissing and sparking as it finally gave up.  
Licking his finger where one of the sparks from the dying holocube had caught it, Anakin frowned, “They found the Sith here?”  
“Whoever composed that message intended to send it to the Jedi Council,” said Obi-wan, more to confirm it to himself, “I wonder if danger in the Temple means on Coruscant or Korriban?”  
Pocketing the holocube, Anakin turned back to the rubbish hoping to find more. “I would think Coruscant. The Jedi have always known that the Temple here is dangerous.”  
“Possibly,” Obi-wan went back to his own search, “but we know the Council never received this message. Do we have any indication of how old it is?”  
“No, Master,” Anakin took the holocube back out of his pocket and studied it, “it looks like ones still used by the Republic.”  
“And they have been in use for almost a century.” Obi-wan knew they would have to wait to return to Coruscant before they could answer these pressing questions.  
“I’m surprised Dooku did not discover this when he came here,” said Anakin, throwing aside a flimplast that was too broken to even switch on.  
“He may have,” replied Obi-wan, up to his elbows in mess, “but it was after coming to Korriban that he turned his back on the Jedi Order.” Giving up with that particular pile of too-sodden paper, Obi-wan came over to help his companion. “He may have learnt of the plot here and decided to confront the Sith Lord that the message refers to.”  
“Yet ended up being seduced by the same Dark Lord.” Anakin felt that they were making some headway with the mystery. “I know that Master Windu preaches caution but it seems increasingly to me that there is a Sith Lord plotting against us, may even be within…” His voice trailed off as a sickening stench hit his nostrils, “Urgh! What is that smell?”  
“I know that smell,” said Obi-wan grimly, helping him to shift the piles of rubbish quickly before they were overcome. As they worked the smell only grew in pungency. Eventually they found its cause; beneath the piles of papers and books they found a decayed and mouldering body. It had been petrified where it had fallen, arms raised in supplication against something, the body strangely contorted. Yet there were few clues left to enable identification. The clothes had all but disappeared and the face was largely eaten away much to the two Jedi’s disgust.  
Trying not to be sick, Obi-wan lifted the remains of the head and checked the back of the neck. There was a visible tear where something had been forcibly removed. He patted the pocket that contained the chip.  
“Do you think this could be Syfo-Dyas?” Anakin looked at the body in horrified fascination. As he gazed upon it, unbidden images of conflict seeped into his consciousness. The conflict between a Jedi warrior and a shadowy figure, their sabers blazing, one blue, one red…  
“Yes. What are you seeing?” The glazed expression on his comrade’s face was unmistakable.  
Anakin tried to cling to the images but they were already fading, “I see two figures fighting. A Jedi and a Sith.”  
“Well, now we know what happened to Syfo-Dyas.” As they watched the mouldering bones, uncovered from their years of being hidden, they had already begun to crumple, the water and the damp eroding the fragile composition. With an audible sigh the body gave up on its existence and collapsed into dust. It was as though the body had been waiting to be found; now it had been released back into the Force.  
“Do you think he ordered the army before he died?” Anakin poked the remains with his foot.  
“That’s the mystery,” sighed Obi-wan, “one of many. It also seems that someone purposefully removed his homing beacon to hide his whereabouts. But why leave it in the same room?”  
“Perhaps they dropped it? Wait a moment.” As he poked at the remains, Anakin noticed a small pouch lying on the ground which previously had been hidden by the body. Made of leather, somehow it had been well preserved although flattened by the sheer weight of litter that had been on top of it. Inside he found more holocubes, most of them damaged but playable and soon the two Jedi were able to piece together the following narrative. It seemed that Syfo-Dyas had been in communication with Dooku on Coruscant, when he had led the Jedi Council. Something terrible had been revealed to him that necessitated drastic action. The second holocube had been a message from Ansuera Ban wishing Syfo-Dyas well on his mission to Kamino.  
“We better take these as evidence,” said Obi-wan thoughtfully to Anakin, “this is the first time we have a link between Syfo-Dyas and Kamino.”  
“I still think its convenient that all the Jedi who knew about the army have either turned to the Dark side or been murdered,” murmured Anakin, wondering how the Jedi Council could have remained so ignorant with all this activity going on.  
A third message sounded like Count Dooku although the voice was too scrambled for either Jedi to be completely sure; it told Syfo-Dyas to remain on Korriban until further orders were given. The composer of the message seemed to have some concern about his state of mind and urged him not to renege on their agreement.  
“He never made it back to Coruscant,” commented Anakin, trying to replay one of the holocubes. But the message had disintegrated further and it gave up in a fizz of sparks like the last holocube, the young Jedi dropping it this time before it burnt his fingers.  
“If Syfo-Dyas knew about the army he would have passed that information into Dooku,” replied Obi-wan, feeling that some things were finally beginning to make sense. “But Dooku never passed that information on to the Council.”  
“But even if Syfo-Dyas ordered the army originally for whatever reason,” said Anakin, “why didn’t Dooku attempt to take the army for himself?”  
“Perhaps that was his plan,” mused Obi-wan, feeling exhausted after their search and longing for tranquility of mind, “however I got there first.”  
“It seems a logical answer.” As he put the holocubes away, Anakin felt a deepening sense of unease along with the beginnings of a headache. “Master, I think we are done here.” The shadows were looming closer although the light still burned as bright.  
“So do I.” Obi-wan went over to the bracket and removed the torch. “If you’ve got everything, I think we can go.”  
As they made their way back to the surface the whisperings started again, more audible this time to both Jedi. Anakin fought to keep them within his control but the pounding headache was not helping his focus. This time they spoke to him not of conspiracies and history but of power and strength beyond his imaginings… power that could only be achieved under their tutelage, following their teachings… a power that was greater than any Jedi’s… allow him to master arts that would make him the greatest Jedi, no more struggle, no more pain… to end the conflict, take control of his anger and use it to augment his already immense strength… to oppose the teachings that were causing him pain… For you are suffering soothed the voice in honeyed tones, they cannot help you, you know they cannot. They chafe in the darkness when we are enlightened with great wisdom, we alone can help you, we alone have the answers for which you are seeking… He grew alarmed as they continued to tell him things he knew he should not be listening to, the teachings of the Sith, power beyond his hopes, not to be in fear but to be feared… He knew that he was losing control of his focus. That he was drowning beneath their weight as they became more and more insistent. Nagging voices were in his ear, in his head, lulling him but equally repelling him, reaching a crescendo with the thundering ache in his veins. His consciousness began to swim; he now saw images in his head, the voices goading him, daring him to listen to them. Overcome, he collapsed to the ground with a faint cry no longer able to fight the overwhelming intensity of the suggestions in his mind. “Help me!”  
Obi-wan, who was marching ahead eager to escape the cloying confines of the tunnel, turned round as he heard Anakin’s feeble plea for help. Running over, he shook him frantically, “Anakin, wake up!” But the young Jedi was unconscious, his lips moving dumbly, tossing as he lay on the ground where he had fallen. Knowing that he had to act quickly, Obi-wan half dragged, half carried his friend through the tunnels, trusting his instinct rather than remembering the exact way out. Before he knew it he could see the end of the tunnel, half hidden by the grasping vegetation they had fought their way through to find it. As he stumbled out into the fresher air, he tipped Anakin onto the ground, looking around for something to wake him with. If he has fallen prey to the voices… Finding a rank pool of water, he scooped up as much as he could and splashed it onto the young Jedi’s face. The effect was immediate and Anakin jolted awake from his trance, yelling incomprehensibly. When he saw the concerned face of Obi-wan looking at him he visibly relaxed. “What happened?”  
“I was hoping you’d like to tell me that?”  
“They were too strong.” He had to admit that maybe he wasn’t strong enough to control the powers of the dark side.Yet.  
“What did I tell you Anakin?”  
“It doesn’t help that I have a headache.” He rubbed his temples trying to soothe his troubles away. There was still a persistent hum at the back of his mind, similar to the residue after a particularly long exposure to loud noise.  
“Well, if you’re quite finished?” Obi-wan was impatient to get away from the pervading aura of evil, it make him feel nauseous.  
“I’m coming, Master,” Anakin hauled himself to his feet, trying to put his pains to the furthest corner of his mind, to calm and soothe them away.

They arrived back at the complex just as night was falling, a cold wind rising as the sky was darkening, peppered with thin swathes of clouds. The former Jedi Temple was under continual bombardment from the Republic army camped around it, the returning fire of the CLONE becoming weaker and increasingly erratic but still the complex continued to hold. Conferring with Commander Lukass, Obi-wan realised that a more daring plan would be necessary in order to break the siege.  
“Anakin and I will go into the complex here,” he said, studying the schematic carefully. “If you can concentrate all power on the eastern side you might be able to knock out the shield for a couple of seconds in order for us to enter.”  
“It is possible,” Lukass was sceptical, “but isn’t that a little risky? It won’t be long until we make a breach.”  
“With respect Commander, we have been on the brink of a breach for a while now. I agree that the strategy is risky but if we knock out the command centre we may even be able to capture General Grievous. He would not expect such a bold move.”  
“We don’t want him to escape this time,” said Anakin, who was stood quietly to one side.  
“The surprise element might work,” said Lukass, considering the idea more carefully, “how many troops would you need?”  
“A dozen would be enough,” decided Obi-wan, looking at Anakin for confirmation. The young Jedi, still shaken by earlier event, merely nodded.  
“Then we’ll go with your idea, General Kenobi. I suggest you wait until morning, we can then move our troops into position overnight.”  
“Very well. Come on Anakin, we’ll try to get some sleep.”  
It was a fitful night for both Jedi, curled up in one of the makeshift tents wrapped in their cloaks. Obi-wan’s head was filled with thoughts of conspiracies and the story of Syfo-Dyas, trying to piece together what he thought might have happened. Anakin was dwelling more on ghosts of unseen voices rather than that of Syfo-Dyas, their secrets still whispering to him now that he was at peace, vulnerable in his sleep. 

“We’ve located the controls for the shield,” Commander Lukass spoke to Obi-wan over the comlink. “We should have it down for you in a few moments but it will only be temporary.”  
“We’re in position.” Obi-wan knew that they would have to move fast. “We’ll be waiting for your signal.” Snapping off the comlink, he turned to Anakin, “Ready?”  
“Of course.” Despite a difficult sleep, Anakin was galvanised by the thought of capturing Grievous.  
In front of them, behind the straggling vegetation that provided temporary cover, loomed the complex taken over by the CLONE. As Anakin had suspected it was of very similar layout to the Temple on Coruscant, which made the Republic’s siege strangely harrowing for the two Jedi as they saw it battered by explosives and missiles. A massive construction built of the unevenly coloured grey-blue stone peculiar to Korriban, the complex sprawled untidily across the surrounding landscape. At one time it would have rivalled the Temple on Coruscant.  
“It’s down.” Obi-wan saw the signal first and the two Jedi, followed by the small number of troops, rushed towards the complex, scaling the wall before the shield snapped back down. They entered the complex relatively quickly, dispatching the few droids that they found with startling ease, finding themselves in a long corridor lit by dim strip lighting.  
“That was too easy,” murmured Obi-wan, worried at the lack of resistance they had encountered.  
As soon as he had spoken, there was a shout from behind.  
“We’ve got company!”  
Turning round, Anakin and Obi-wan just avoided the volley of laser fire that headed towards them. A large battalion of droids were engaging the Republic troops in close combat, several bodies already scattered across the corridor.  
“You were saying?” smirked Anakin, less worried about their entrance than their progression. Before them was a heavily armoured blast door, behind them the inevitably approaching conflict.  
“Don’t be cocky,” replied Obi-wan, casting his eyes about the high ceiling for an answer, “look, at least the controls are on this side.”  
“So they are.”  
Taking out his lightsaber, just as Obi-wan aimed it in a wide swinging arc towards the controls the CLONE troops broke past the front line of the Republic army and headed towards the two Jedi. The door opened and started to raise as the lightsaber sliced neatly through the controls; both Jedi hurried towards it.  
“What about the troops?” asked Anakin, glancing anxiously behind him.  
“They will be alright,” said Obi-wan firmly, not liking it any more than his friend but accepting that they had to be sacrificed for the greater good. “Our priority is to get to the command centre.”  
The doors had already started to close. “We might need them later.”  
Leaving their reinforcements far behind to their unknown fate, Obi-wan and Anakin made their way further and further into the complex. As Anakin had predicted the layout was very similar to that of Coruscant but inside it was very different. Unlike the grandeur of the Temple on Coruscant, the corridors had been stripped of all their carving and instead were lined with dreary, grey plastic boards. Here and there the boards were damaged or had been ripped off, revealing the more ornate surfaces below but any that were left were badly damaged.  
“This place must have as been as noble as Coruscant once,” murmured Obi-wan absently, looking around him in interest. Turning to Anakin, he noticed that the young man was staring absently before him, a peculiar fervour in his blue eyes… no wait, the more he looked the more he saw a strange yellowish light reflecting in the young man’s irises. “Anakin?”  
“Sorry, I was distracted,” shaking his head to clear it, Anakin looked at his friend with clear blue eyes. He knew that the dark energy was still affecting his mind.  
“Come on, we both need to focus. Have you got the schematic?”  
“It’s here.” Pulling the schematic from his pocket, Anakin knew that he had to concentrate on the task at hand; it would help to take his mind from trying to ignore the pull of the Force. No it was the not the Force, he reminded himself, its nature was completely different. It was a warped, twisted version which destroyed and subverted life rather than created it.  
Obi-wan looked at the schematic carefully, “I think we should head for sector five oh nine.” On Coruscant that would correspond with the conference rooms and a likely bet in his mind as the site of the command centre here.  
“It seems awfully quiet here to me,” said Anakin suddenly as they reached the end of yet another empty corridor. “If Grievous knows that we’re here…”  
“…then we’re being led into a trap.” Obi-wan could not fault his suspicion.  
Being more careful, the two Jedi crept stealthily along the corridor, coming to a halt where the corridor bisected with another, similar, grey panelled corridor. It was disorientating to say the least, for all they knew they could be heading round in circles.  
Anakin held up a cautious hand. “Listen.”  
“What is it?”  
Straining his ears, Obi-wan heard it. The steady tramp tramp tramp of marching feet ringing out on a metallic floor. It was coming from both ways. “Great,” he said with disgust, “now we’re trapped.”  
“Don’t be so hasty Master,” Anakin was studying one of the panels. It looked loose.  
“How will that help us?” asked Obi-wan in exasperation, “It won’t be very effective against those droids.”  
“I’m not going to clobber them with it.” With a combination of brute strength and lightsaber, Anakin wrenched the panel off the wall, revealing a door recessed into the wall covered in cobwebs and dust.  
“How did you know that was there?” Obi-wan came over and helped Anakin push the heavy stone door back; they could see a long corridor heading into the darkness. It was a simple trick but it might fool a few droids.  
They pulled the stone slab shut behind them and, using their lightsabers as beacons, continued into the gloom. But after a while of following the cramped, twisting corridor Obi-wan realised that they were likely to be heading away from the command centre and he told Anakin so.  
“Would you rather face those droids Master? There is more than one way to find the command centre.”  
“Of course there is.” Obi-wan tried to relax but he was fed up of tramping along dark corridors.  
“If we head roughly towards the sector we want,” said Anakin, tracking their journey on the schematic, “we should find it.”  
Finally they reached the end of the corridor, another stone door but this time much more ornate. It was surrounded by intricate carvings of what appeared to be warriors dressed in archaic costume, mysterious shrouded beings and complex symbols arranged in patterns unrecognisable to both Jedi.  
“Curious,” muttered Obi-wan, studying them in the wan light from his saber.  
“Very pretty,” said Anakin, looking in vain for a handle or some kind of mechanism to open the door. “It won’t take them long to find out where we’ve gone,” he added more urgently, glancing down the passageway behind them.  
“I know.” Obi-wan had found what he was looking for, a small slot next to the doorframe. Plunging his lightsaber into the slot, he smiled as a satisfactory click preceded the swinging open of the door. There was a crash as it hit the wall behind it, showering dust and stone fragments on the two disgusted Jedi but they made it through the door just before the droids could be seen appearing at the end of the corridor, their armour glowing dimly to light their way.  
“That ought to keep them busy for a while,” said Obi-wan wryly as they slammed the door shut. Still pondering the significance of the strange carvings, Obi-wan plunged into the all-encompassing darkness with Anakin close on his heels. Guided purely by instinct and the schematic, they tramped down corridor after corridor, Obi-wan sometimes halting so that they could figure out the way forward together.  
“It seems the CLONE has not discovered this,” commented Obi-wan as they paused briefly in one chamber that led off the main corridor, marvelling at the sheer number of crystals it contained, creating a gentle luminescence that was both beautiful and relaxing. The tunnels were interspersed with many such chambers, most of them stuffed with what appeared to be Jedi paraphernalia – instruments for constructing lightsabers, crystals of many different shapes and magnitude, records and training manuals.  
“They would not be able to do anything with it if they did,” replied Anakin, going over to a towering bookcase heaped with all kinds of unknown materials. He picked up a couple of parchments, marvelling at the flowing script, the patient images drawn in coloured inks, “I have never seen anything like this before.”  
“You have not spent enough time in the library on Coruscant obviously.” Obi-wan was looking at an odd page he had found, torn out of some archaic tome. It was covered in a cramped but fluid succession of symbols, written in a flourishing hand. More of the symbols that had been carved around the door decorated the edges of the page. The more he studied it the more he realised where he had seen the symbols before and what they signified. Suddenly uneasy, he threw it to the ground and bundled the young man out of the chamber quickly, slamming the door behind them.  
“What the…?” cried Anakin, wondering why Obi-wan was being so abrupt.  
“We have to get away from here,” said Obi-wan, literally pushing him down the corridor.  
“Why? What is wrong?” Anakin extricated himself from Obi-wan’s grasp.  
“I recognise it now,” murmured Obi-wan, seeing not to hear him, “It’s the Dark Jedi script it has to be.”  
“The Dark Jedi?” Anakin was puzzled, “but I thought…”  
“Their Temple was destroyed? So did I, but the Jedi must have sought to contain them; they must have locked their secrets away here. And we have blundered right in.” His only focus was that they had to get out of there immediately.  
“There is nothing down here, Master.” As they walked, Anakin pulled out the schematic of the Temple to check on their progress, “Look it seems that we are almost beneath where we assumed the command centre to be.”  
Obi-wan cheered up a little at the news but all he could see around them was blank, faceless stone walls. “Shame there is not an exit here.”  
“Maybe further down?”  
They continued down the corridor until they found the chink in the wall that indicated a door, the hinges also a dead give away. Obi-wan looked at Anakin suspiciously. “How do you know all this?”  
“It tells me on the schematic.” Experimentally he pushed at the door but found that it was jammed shut. Closer inspection of the hinges showed that they were rusted and seemed to have stuck. “Looks like we’ll have to break through.”  
“I was afraid you would say that.” Obi-wan was not enamoured of having to use brute strength to solve a problem.  
“Master, even Artoo would have trouble opening this door.”  
“Come on, less talk, more action,” chided Obi-wan preparing himself mentally for the task ahead of them.  
Bracing their shoulders, the Jedi rushed the door. Infuriatingly it wobbled but held. The second attack was more productive and they smashed through the stone slab, the hinges groaning as they gave way, using it as a battering ram to break through the panelling on the other side with a tremendous crash, showering splinters of wood and crowds of dust into the corridor beyond. Using his lightsaber, Obi-wan cut the final pieces of panel out of the way, forcing himself through the gap.  
Fortunately the corridor was completely empty. Thick dust on the floor indicated that it had not been in use for some time, although someone had gone to the trouble of panelling the walls.  
“We’re in a service corridor,” confirmed Anakin, looking at the schematic again, eventually finding their location. “Only about two corridors away from the command centre.”  
“Thank the Force.” An insistent buzzing in Obi-wan’s cloak made him realise that someone was trying to contact him on the comlink, “This is grumpy old man, come in.”  
“General Kenobi, this is Commander Lukass. We have broken the siege on the north side, how long do you think until you can get the shields down?”  
“Just coming up on the command centre, sector five oh nine, we’ll let you know when we’re in.”  
“Affirmative,” the comlink winked off.  
“They’re doing better than we are,” commented Anakin, pocketing the schematic and drawing his lightsaber in readiness, “I think it is time we address this imbalance.”  
“Certainly,” replied Obi-wan, starting down the corridor, “we would never live it down in the Temple.”  
As they rounded the corner, they walked straight into a whole regiment of battle droids escorting a group of pilots towards the hangars, obviously rushing to help support the offensive on the North side. In the distance the door to the command centre lay tantalisingly open behind two sets of blast doors but they were unable to reach it and lightsabers flashed as the Jedi engaged the droids, dodging and twisting around and across them, heads and droid parts flying in all directions, sparks littering the ground as more short circuited and died.  
“The doors are closing!”  
Attracted by the noise, two of the larger destroyer droids appeared, firing indiscriminately into the confusion.  
Both Jedi dived out the way to avoid the hail of laser, “I see it. Quick!”  
Dodging the laser fire, droids and obstacles that littered the floor the two Jedi dashed for the inconveniently closing blast door, throwing themselves beneath it and just scraping through in the nick of time. Leaping to his feet, Anakin saw that their goal – the command centre – was at last in front of them but there was no time to think for more droids were tramping towards them, this time accompanied by several of Grievous’ ferocious bodyguards their electro-staffs crackling with malevolent energy.  
“You take them Anakin,” shouted Obi-wan hurriedly, “I’ll get the door!”  
“Right,” Anakin considered he had the more appealing of the two tasks.  
Whilst Anakin engaged the droids in close combat, Obi-wan dodged past them and ran towards the closing door. Reaching the controls, he realised he had no time to be subtle; grabbing his lightsaber he slashed it across the controls. Whining angrily the door screeched slowly to a halt as the mechanics sparked into flames, fizzled and died out. The gap was just large enough for the Jedi Master. “Anakin, hurry!”  
Finishing off the droid closest to him, Anakin left the rest and squeezed through the gap after Obi-wan, transferring his lightsaber to his left hand just in time to cut off the hand of a more persistent battle droid which grabbed his cloak.  
Inside the command centre there was chaos; it was swarming with droids, aides and more of the peculiar droids Grievous surrounded himself with.  
“There he is!” Anakin spotted General Grievous disappearing through one of the stone panels in the wall, cheekily waving as he saw the two Jedi enter the control room. Their lightsabers drawn, most of the aides scattered as they saw the Jedi approaching but the inorganic droids and bodyguards were less impressed and continued to block their route to Grievous.  
Sweating profusely in the heat, Obi-wan knew time was fast running out, “Cover me!”  
Whilst Anakin struggled to contain their adversaries, Obi-wan rushed over to the console. He was looking for the controls to the shields that protected the complex, knowing it had to be somewhere. Without shutting these down centrally it would a laborious task. Trouble was there didn’t seem to be a central switch.  
“Watch out!” yelled Anakin from behind him, seeing one of the aides going at him with some kind of knife, but before he could run over to help, he was shot by another of the aides who was firing at him with a blaster, crouching behind one of the consoles at the furthest end of the chamber. “Argh!” Anakin dropped his lightsaber in agony.  
Turning round, Obi-wan did not have time to grab his lightsaber so surprising was the attack. The two of them struggled; Obi-wan managed to grab the aide’s wrist and prevent the blade from reaching his neck. Surprisingly strong, she forced him up against the console, the blade slipping lower and lower, closer and closer to his neck… then, face contorted with pain, she suddenly slumped forward, hitting her forehead on the edge of the console and sliding to the floor in a heap.  
Breathing heavily, Obi-wan saw Anakin standing beside the console, looking at him with concern.  
“Are you alright Master?”  
“I can’t find the shield controls,” said Obi-wan seeing the blood on Anakin’s tunic. “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine,” Anakin ducked behind the console as volley of laser fire flitted past them. “I’ll come and help you just as soon as I’ve finished off these droids.”  
As Anakin waded back into the fray, Obi-wan continued his search of the consoles. By the time he saw the countdown flashing away to itself he was ready to give up. Looking around he noticed for the first time that all the aides seemed to have fled; only the more persistent droids were left. “Anakin!” he yelled, hardly able to hear his own voice over the loud thumping in his chest.  
Dispatching the final droid, Anakin rushed back over to where Obi-wan was standing. He was starting to lose all sense of reality, “What’s the matter?”  
“The complex is set to self-destruct,” said Obi-wan coolly.  
“Is that all?” replied Anakin, his eyes travelling speedily over the controls laid out in front of them. “Surely we can stop it?”  
“Do these things normally come with a cancellation switch?” asked Obi-wan, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I don’t think so.”  
“Don’t be so negative, master.” Undeterred, Anakin crouched down and wrenched open a panel underneath the console, spilling forth like colourful guts a huge tangle of wires and circuit boards. Fiddling about, he located a couple and pulled them out. “Anything?”  
Before he finished speaking, shrill alarms began to sound across the room, shields slamming down on all the windows and plunging them into semi-darkness. But there was no change in the countdown; it descended as relentlessly as before.  
“Well done,” said Obi-wan, pressing buttons, anything in an effort get it to stop.  
Disappointed, Anakin continued to pull out wires, not caring what they were connected to as long as something happened to halt the countdown, trying to disconnect the link to the chain of expected explosions. Tangled lengths of wire surrounded him on the floor in a growing pile but still nothing happened.  
Just as the countdown reached 2, it suddenly winked off.  
“You’ve done it…” said Obi-wan in disbelief, not believing his own eyes.  
“Phew,” Anakin allowed himself to breathe. Getting up, he turned back to the row of consoles, “now for those shields…”  
A massive explosion suddenly rocked the complex, throwing the two Jedi to the ground so unexpectedly that Anakin struck his head violently on the edge of the console as he fell. Columns and panels rained down from the ceiling as the whole room collapsed about them, Obi-wan just managing to drag himself and his dazed companion beneath a half fallen console before they were buried alive.  
“Blast!” cursed Anakin, rubbing his head, the darkness of a bruise already beginning to swell. “We’ve got to get those shields down!”  
After a moment the rubble stopped raining down although they could hear more explosions in the distance. Venturing out cautiously, the two Jedi split up amongst the banks of controls, searching for the elusive controls for the shields. It was Obi-wan who finally found them after clearing away a vast quantity of dust and rubbish from one of the monitors. Vindicated he set to work turning off all the switches, watching the power signals on the screens in front of him drain away. He had just turned off the penultimate switch when another explosion rocked the command centre showering dust all over him; as soon as he finished he scurried for cover, joining Anakin who was crouched under the vidscreen table.  
“We can’t stay in here much longer,” shouted Anakin over the deafening noise of falling masonry, “if we want to leave here alive!”  
“I agree,” said Obi-wan, finding the comlink with difficulty in the confined space, squashed up against Anakin, “Commander Lukass!” he said into it, “do you copy?”  
“Copy, General Kenobi. Well done for getting those shields down, where are you now?”  
“We’re still in the command centre,” said Obi-wan, coughing as the dust he had inhaled irritated his lungs.  
“But it’s been hit!” came the voice of the Commander, loosing his measured tone at last, “I’ll hold off the attack but hurry Master Kenobi, we have evidence that the CLONE troops are trying to destroy their own complex. You must leave now!”  
Obi-wan didn’t like to tell it him it had been the actions of two well-meaning Jedi. “Copy, we’ll make our way over the hangars, we think Grievous might be trying to escape that way.”  
“Affirmative, we’ll be sending a squad up to meet you.”  
“Come on Anakin,” said Obi-wan, emerging from under the table and having to dodge as another tottering column nearly collapsed on top of him, “we’re going after Grievous.”  
There was too much fallen rubble to enable them to get to Grievous’ escape route so they headed out of the destroyed command centre and raced along the corridors, following the path of the pilots. Steady rumblings indicated that the destruction was spreading; panels broke haphazardly from walls, walls fell, generating huge clouds of obscuring dust, ceilings collapsed as the attacks of the Republic troops tore the complex apart.  
Finally reaching the hangar, dirty, sweaty and bloodied, the Jedi pair found it discouragingly empty of ships… and no sign of Grievous.  
“Maybe he’s gone underground?” cried Anakin, looking around nervously as the walls shook from the stress of bombardments elsewhere. “We should try the tunnels!”  
Unwilling to go back into the lurking darkness, Obi-wan however was forced to concede that Anakin could be right. And they had to leave the hangar; everything was collapsing all around them as the shakings intensified. Nowhere was safe.  
As they ran back into the corridor, Anakin spied a gap in the wall where some of the stone blocks had fallen, “Look.”  
“I don’t know how we can possibly find him,” grumbled Obi-wan as he clambered over the rubble convinced that Anakin was crazy, “these tunnels could go on for miles.”  
“Well what should we do? Do nothing and let him get away?” Anakin looked at his Master in frustration.  
“Okay, okay, lead the way.” Trying to contain his revulsion for the dark corridors and the dangerous mysteries they seemed to contain, Obi-wan followed after him.  
The two Jedi hurried through the tunnels, the youngest of the pair guiding them using the schematic but also through sheer determination. But despite his confidence in his abilities, after a while even Anakin was beginning to think that they were heading into the deeps of the earth rather than anywhere useful. Just as he was about to admit his misgivings to Obi-wan, they turned a corner, meeting up with a second tunnel that branched away into gloomy darkness. Leading into this tunnel were fresh markings in the dirt.  
“Something has been this way recently,” said Anakin with relief, pointing them out to Obi-wan, “let’s hope it’s Grievous.”  
It was the discovery that they needed and with renewed enthusiasm, they followed the trails through the labyrinth of tunnels. As they walked they noticed at times, lit by the glow of their lightsabers, that the walls here were covered in scrawls and markings, including more of the strange symbols they had already seen. The corridor finally ended in a plain looking door cut into the wall. It was locked, but Anakin put his shoulder to it and it swung open with a noisy clatter, revealing stairs spiralling upwards, lit by tiny glowing lights set into the walls.  
“Finally some light,” said Obi-wan, blinking as his eyes readjusted from being in near-gloom for so long.  
“Listen, it’s Grievous.” Anakin could hear his wheezing faintly in the distance; they must have caught up with him. “Come on!”  
“He really should do something about that cough,” commented Obi-wan catching his own breath before he tackled the stairs.  
Anakin had already begun his ascent, taking the stairs two at a time, newly roused by the thought that their adversary was so much closer than they had expected, pushing himself harder than his groaning muscles would have liked, ignoring the pain in his shoulder trying to make itself noticed.  
For ages they climbed higher and higher, to dizzying heights and still the stairs spiralled upwards. Anakin rounded the corner… the stairs had finally ended but to his chagrin he saw yet another door. Hearing the roaring of engines, sensing there was no time to waste, he crashed into it, but this door was made of sterner stuff and he hit it hard, rebounding off and falling onto the ground in disbelief.  
Coming up behind him, Obi-wan looked at him in concern, “Being too brave again eh Anakin?” Casually he sliced through the lock with his saber, helping a groaning Anakin to his feet just as the door swung open. Running into the hangar they ran straight into a cloud of exhaust fumes and dust, drawing their lightsabers to face the obligatory battle droids who still seemed to be crawling around the complex. Anakin leapt straight into battle swinging his lightsaber left and right, flinging out his hand to scatter their adversaries.  
“We’re at point oh two three zero” yelled Obi-wan into the comlink, using his lightsaber to defend himself from the bursts of laser fire, “hurry, the General is escaping!” He joined the battle with the droids, Anakin already having dispatched a great number of them but still no closer to Grievous’ ship. “We should try to stop the ship,” Obi-wan shouted, dispatching one of the droids in a messy heap.  
“I’ve got no charges!” said Anakin, patting his pockets, “what about you?”  
“It’s too late,” said Obi-wan dismally, seeing the ship lifting off from the ground, “blast it!”  
Suddenly they heard loud explosions erupting all around them, seeing the Republic ships streaking overhead as they unloaded their deadly missiles, exploding in a fierce blast of sound and light but missing the target completely. As it climbed into the air, the General’s ship fired back at its opponent, as droids, ships and structures went flying.  
Diving for cover, the two Jedi could hardly avoid being hit by the debris flying all around them, endless showers of fragments raining down and covering their hair, their tunics. More painfully a flying wall panel caught Obi-wan’s head and an already battered Anakin was knocked to the floor by a heavy section of pipe.  
“Are you alright?” wheezed Obi-wan, climbing slowly to his knees, coughing as the smoke from the roaring flames all around them invaded his lungs.  
“I think so,” Anakin was also struggling to breathe but feeling lucky to be alive, “I thought the CLONE were the enemy, not us!”  
Worn out, the two Jedi ran for the exit, knowing that with the large amount of fuel stored in the hangar it would not be long until an even greater explosion engulfed it, the fires were raging unchecked now, the flames spreading with alarming ferocity and they did not want to stick around to see what would happen.  
Coming out of the hangar they found themselves in a courtyard, surrounded on all sides by a covered arcade. Getting around the courtyard was challenging; having to dodge flying bits of burning debris, trying to avoid breathing in the noxious fumes filling the air, keeping on the look out for stray laser fire and amidst all the confusion try to ignore the increasing pain from their injuries.  
“Look, Obi-wan,” Anakin was looking at the trusted schematic, “there’s a way out on the North side of the arcade.”  
Most of the complex was consumed by raging fire as the Republic ships swooped low overhead, taking out the last pockets of resistance from the CLONE. Huge plumes of smoke billowed into the sky, darkening even the light from the sun and plunging everywhere in near-darkness. With the power to the complex massively overstrained, most of the lights had already gone out, leaving only the eerie glow of green emergency lighting. Stumbling a few times, the two Jedi made it into the next yard, only run into another battalion of troops.  
“General Kenobi!”  
They were Republic troops and the Jedi hastily lowered their weapons.  
“We have to leave immediately,” shouted the Commander of the troops, drowned out by the chaos of explosions and cracking flames, “the fire has reached the main reactor. We have a ship waiting for us.”  
Needing no further encouragement, Obi-wan was happy to comply, “Commander, is there…”  
But as he spoke there was a colossal noise from behind them as the reactor finally exploded in the intense heat, sending mushrooming clouds of toxic gasses into the atmosphere and masses of debris as the building that housed the reactor was shot thousands of feet into the air. There was shouting and chaos as the troops and the Jedi raced for cover, trying to avoid stumbling over fallen masonry and fallen CLONE troops.  
“This way!” yelled the Commander, pointing to a waiting ship, straining on its supports.  
They were just in time; as Obi-wan pulled Anakin onto the ship, a chain of explosions rocked the already beleaguered complex forcing them to take off with limited visibility as smoke and flames engulfed them. Coughing, Anakin retreated further inside the ship, feeling the heat from the flames singing his hair and face.  
“That was a close one,” wheezed Obi-wan, his head smarting from where the panel had struck him, the loudest in a number of complaints from his aching body. He looked across at Anakin, seeing the dark bruise spread across his forehead, the soot and dust covering his face and hair, the dark, congealed blood on his tunic, and, unable to stop himself, started to laugh.  
“What’s so funny?” frowned Anakin, thinking that Obi-wan had seriously flipped.  
“I don’t know,” replied Obi-wan wiping the tears from his eyes. The more he tried to stop laughing the more he was overcome.  
“Then why are you laughing,” smiled Anakin, finding that the laughter was infectious, trying to stop himself but like Obi-wan he was soon caught up in pointless mirth.  
“It’s not even funny,” hooted Obi-wan, trying to compose himself but as soon as he looked at Anakin again, they both burst into peals of laughter.  
After a while though the laughter died away and both men started to think more seriously about the situation they had been in.  
“They almost killed us in there,” said Anakin quietly, feeling sore both mentally and physically.  
Obi-wan was more cautious, “That’s a serious allegation to make Anakin I don’t think it would be wise to…”  
“They knew we were in the complex yet they bombed the hangar without checking first to see if we had cleared it.” The confusion and danger of their escape had been brewing within the young Jedi and he was determined to give vent to his feelings.  
“Keep your voice down,” commanded Obi-wan, seeing that Anakin’s words were attracting curious glances from the Republic troops. “We will not do ourselves any favours if we pursue this line of thought. The needs of the campaign must come above our personal safety.”  
Shaking his head, Anakin could not understand how the death of a Jedi was preferable to holding back a few minutes before bombing a hangar.

Beneath them, as the ship soared ever higher to escape the smoke, the complex collapsed into itself, the tongues of fiery flames had undermined it severely, leaving only blackened ruins of once proud stone. Around the tree line was blackened and scorched as the fires consumed all around it until the pall of smoke rose over everything, shrouding the Temple and its buried secrets from inquisitive eyes.

“Greetings, General Kenobi, glad to see you made it back.” Commander Lukass gave him the briefest of glances as the two dishevelled Jedi entered the control room, one more petulant than the other. He was busy watching the console as information from the continuing attack chugged across the screens.  
“It was a close call,” said Obi-wan, removing his tattered and burnt cloak, an unfortunate casualty of the escape.  
“Indeed, you look a little worse for wear,” said the Commander, trying to make sense of several screens of information at once, “can I get you something to drink?”  
The seemingly dismissive attitude of the Commander finally sent Anakin over the edge. “I must object,” said Anakin in his authoritative tone, “to the over enthusiastic troops who decided to bomb the hangar before General Kenobi and I affected our escape.”  
The Commander looked at him nervously. “Commander Skywalker, you must accept my apologies, the signal that we had from General Kenobi’s comlink indicated that you were no longer in the hangar, it seemed safe to…”  
“We are wasting time,” continued Anakin, ignoring what he saw as meaningless excuses, “even as we speak General Grievous is escaping us again, I do not see you attempting to engage him, Commander.”  
“I am sure the Commander is doing all he can, Anakin,” said Obi-wan calmly, hoping to dispel the growing tension.  
“We sent a squadron of fighters after him but the General’s ship was too heavily shielded,” said Commander Lukass, nervously in the face of Anakin’s belligerent questioning. “And with the demise of several of our ships we cannot afford…”  
“Our mission is to capture the General,” stormed Anakin, “and that is what we should be doing!”  
“Anakin, where are you going?” demanded Obi-wan as the young Jedi made to leave the makeshift command centre.  
“To catch Grievous,” said Anakin, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Somebody has to!”  
“It’s too late Anakin,” Obi-wan shook his head, looked at the young man intently, “he’s had too much of a head start, he’ll be in hyperspace by now.”  
Frustrated, Anakin flung himself down on a nearby chair, putting his head in his hands. He no longer knew what he was annoyed about most. Almost being killed or losing his temper.  
Obi-wan looked apologetically at the Commander, joining him in front of the bank of consoles. “Forgive my friend, it’s been a hard day.”  
Commander Lukass was sympathetic, “Commander Skywalker has a valid point. The intention was not to bomb the hangar until we knew it had been cleared. I will order a thorough investigation General as soon as we return to Coruscant. It is unacceptable that your lives were put in such danger.”  
“Thank you Commander.”  
“As for Grievous, we are trying to track him, General Kenobi, but at the moment we have lost the signal. We are confident he will be found.”  
After a formal debriefing from the Commander, an inventory of weapons and munitions captured and an inspection of the damage done to the complex, Obi-wan decided to tackle Anakin. He fixed a couple of drinks and went back over to where the young man was sitting, looking exhausted amidst all the dirt and bruises. He had his eyes closed.  
“Are you alright Anakin?” Obi-wan took a seat next to him, “Here,” handing him the drink.  
Opening his eyes, Anakin took it gratefully. “Thank you.”  
“You must not let things affect you so much, Anakin,” said Obi-wan, trying to be patient. “We will capture Grievous eventually.”  
“I know.” He was annoyed that Obi-wan was trying to hide his own concerns about the army’s actions. But he let it rest; his mind was already too overwrought and he sipped his drink in silence.  
“Come on, let’s get some fresh air.” Although the hubbub of the command centre was enough to mask their words, Obi-wan wasn’t taking any chances.  
“You were right though about Grievous,” said Obi-wan thoughtfully as they walked under darkening skies, “he did know that we were there, his escape seemed too carefully planned to be a coincidence.”  
“Dooku said that there was a Sith Lord on Coruscant,” said Anakin bleakly, “Maybe he was telling the truth?”  
“You mean that the danger in the Temple meant the Temple on Coruscant?”  
“Yes,” said Anakin decisively, but even he knew there was a flaw to his logic, “One thing that troubles me though. If there were a Sith Lord on Coruscant wouldn’t we have sensed something, however small?”  
“But we have sensed something.” A revelation occurred in Obi-wan’s mind, “A disturbance in the Force.” The Council had assumed that it reflected the general chaos in the Galaxy, but perhaps they had been thinking too broadly. What if the danger was really closer to home?  
“Could a Sith Lord be creating this confusion?” Anakin wanted to know.  
“It is very possible.” Obi-wan studied the young Jedi for a moment, “What do you think?”  
“I don’t know,” sighed Anakin, fixing one of the fastenings on his glove that was coming loose, “it means that we have to trust Dooku.”  
“If we take these ideas to its logical conclusion, we would have to assume that this Sith lord is very close to the Senate,” commented Obi-wan, remembering Dooku’s assertion that the corruption in the Senate was a result of Sith machinations. “They would have to be very high up in the bureaucracy or close to the Chancellor.”  
“That will make it very difficult to investigate,” said Anakin, “the Chancellor would not like the implication he is being manipulated by the Dark side.”  
“We must trust our feelings, only they will reveal the answers.” Heaving the hugest of sighs, Obi-wan looked over to where the Temple fires still raged, the trees nearby blackened and skeletal against the deep blue sky. “We must petition the Order as soon as we return to continue our investigations. In many respects it should take priority over campaigns such as this.”  
“Master if we remove ourselves from involvement in the war there will not be a Republic left to defend,” said Anakin, who was of the opinion that without Obi-wan’s - and his - link with the Senate through the elite squadron, the Jedi would pursue a more isolated role in the conflict. “Besides,” he decided to admit, “I like being away from Coruscant. It does not agree with me.” As much as his visits there enabled him to see Padmé, he had formed an intense dislike for the strange energy generated by the polluted, congested and tension-riddled city.  
“Really?” Obi-wan had not realised. “I understand your meaning, tensions are running very high in all spheres and everyone is beginning to show the strain. The Chancellor looks worn out. There is continual disagreement in the Senate-”  
“Maybe the influence of this Sith Lord is more pervasive than we thought?”  
“We cannot blame everything on the actions of one Sith Lord, Anakin,” cautioned Obi-wan, “there is still the responsibility of individuals to take into account. But I agree with you, the purpose of the Sith is destruction and division. If they do have any influence it will be to sow discord, particularly among those who are vulnerable to their suggestions.” Looking about him, Obi-wan realised that they had wondered further away from the command centre than he had meant. “Come on Anakin, we better get back before they leave us behind on this forsaken planet. And we better look at that shoulder of yours before it gets infected.”  
As they walked back, Anakin thought about the implications of a Sith Lord influencing the Senate. It would explain why Admiral Organa believed their the campaigns fought so far had been expected by the CLONE and why there appeared to be no coherent strategy to the CLONE’s attacks ever since they had joined Dooku and his Separatists. Yet he knew there would be a strategy, one less open to scrutiny. One they must seek to uncover.  
As they reached the command centre, an aide hurried out to meet them. “General Kenobi, Admiral Organa has contacted us, he wishes to speak with you.”  
“Of course,” Obi-wan followed the aide back into the command centre, ensuring that Anakin accompanied him this time. “I’ll need you for any awkward questions that come up.”  
Bail Organa was not known for asking awkward questions and Anakin smiled, he knew how Obi-wan disliked taking all the credit for their successes. “Very well Master, but this time I insist that you take all the glory.”


	7. Disaster on Kessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the horror and stress of war, Anakin is looking forward to a break on Coruscant. But he finds that he is very much in demand, as the spokesperson of the Jedi Order in the Senate, at a variety of parties and functions, and as the confidante of Chancellor Palpatine, who is suffering under the devastating impact of the war on the Republic. Obi-wan, and the Jedi Council, are concerned that these continual demands on Anakin's time are pulling him away from the Jedi Temple, as is his seemingly unwavering support for Palpatine. And then there are his clandestine visits to Padme...
> 
> A controversial mission to free Kessel from the CLONE turns out to be a carefully laid trap set by Dooku. When he rejects Dooku's offer to train him in the Light and the Darkness, Anakin is forced to fight Dooku's army of Dark Jedi, finding himself face to face with some former 'friends.'
> 
> Warning - there are some quite nasty and intense scenes of Anakin fighting the Dark Jedi.

“Commander Skywalker,” said Admiral Bail Organa, greeting the young man pleasantly, “It is wonderful to see you. I know we asked for a Jedi to report to us our successes in the Outer Rim but I would have thought you would be away chalking up more victories to add to your reputation!”  
“I don’t know about that Senator Organa, I am merely serving the Republic, under great leaders such as yourself.” Dressed in his idiosyncratic dark brown Jedi robes, long cape sweeping to the ground, Anakin was every inch the hero. More imposing than ever, he had worn his fair hair long ever since he had attained the status of knight, sweeping across his forehead and falling to his shoulders. It gave him the appearance of a Jedi warrior of old; even the scar on his face no longer represented a measure of weakness but served as a badge of his courage and daring. An air of authority clung to him, as well as excitement and danger, incongruous against the calm demeanour of the young Jedi.  
“Have long have you been back on Coruscant?” asked the Senator pleasantly, as they continued down the corridor together, heading towards the central meeting chamber.  
“Only a couple of days, but they locked me in the Jedi Temple. This is the first time I’ve been let out.”  
Senator Organa grinned, “I’m surprised, from what I hear they can’t send you away enough. I must congratulate you for your successes at Korriban and Eriadu, not to mention Cato Nemoidia, and for changing the fate of the battle at Blaxell Rixter. It really was an amazing victory you secured.”  
Anakin shrugged, “I cannot take all the credit for that last one. Without Master Obi-wan I would have been too overcome with exhaustion to face General Grievous but luckily his shrieking at me goaded me into action. It was only a shame that he managed to escape again before we could capture him.”  
Bail laughed, “As you are so modest, I imagine you have not heard what they have recently been calling you?”  
“No, I have not.”  
“Maybe Senator Amidala will tell you.”  
Hearing his beloved’s name, Anakin turned around and sure enough she was coming towards them, two omnipresent guards trailing behind her. His heartbeat quickened - after all he had not seen her for months - but he knew he had to be careful to not reveal his feelings for her in such a public place.  
However the impeccably dressed Padmé was not so good at hiding her excitement upon seeing him; immediately her face relaxed, her eyes sparkled and her step noticeably quickened. “This is a pleasant surprise, good day to you Commander Skywalker.”  
“Senator Amidala,” he said calmly, taking her hand. “It is good to see you looking so well.”  
Before she could prevent herself, Padmé reached forward and kissed him on the cheek, quickly depositing a kiss on the other cheek as if she were following the standard protocol of her home planet.  
“I shall come back to Coruscant more often if this is the reception I receive,” grinned Anakin rakishly, keeping hold of her hand longer than custom deemed necessary.  
“It is not my fault,” replied Padmé with a smile, “if the citizens of Coruscant are more reserved than those of Naboo.”  
“Then you should do more to promote your customs here.”  
“I have tried, but I’m afraid most Senators would deem it inappropriate, Commander Skywalker.” Although she knew Senator Organa would turn a blind eye to any flirtation between them, Padmé nonetheless knew she should steer the conversation back to more neutral ground. “It cannot have been long since you returned?”  
“As I was just telling Senator Organa, two days,” he replied, hoping that she would understand that he had not been able to come to see her, but he sensed no irritation in her. “How are things on Coruscant, my lady?”  
“The same as always. There is fighting in the Senate almost daily, you would hesitate to think the war was going on elsewhere.” As she spoke she could not help noticing his eyes; despite his cool demeanour his eyes seemed, haunted, infused with pain. She shivered, wondering what had happened to him whilst he had been away, but then the moment passed and he was smiling again, the negative emotions gone from his eyes. The Republic’s hero. “Anyway, I have been dying to ask you about your exploits, the news channels barely report anything else.”  
“We hear about you daily,” added Senator Organa, “I am surprised you have not been mobbed by a crowd of adoring fans on your return!”  
“I am not aware of any such fuss,” said Anakin diffidently, secretly intrigued as to what measure of fame he had attained, “there are many heroes in this war.”  
“But you are the one they are all talking about,” persisted Bail. “I was just telling Anakin,” he said to Padmé, “that he has even been given a nickname suitable for a hero of his status.”  
“Oh yes,” beamed Padmé, “they are calling you Ilman-tüska.”  
“Without fear?” Anakin couldn’t help laughing. “They haven’t seen how nervous I am before I go into battle, Obi-wan has to literally drag me kicking and screaming.”  
“I cannot believe that’s true,” Padmé tutted at his obviously false modesty. “I shall have to cross reference your statement with Obi-wan.”  
“I am surprised that General Kenobi is not with you,” asked Senator Organa, “I hear that you and he are inseparable these days.”  
“Unfortunately Obi-wan is tied up with Council business so he cannot make it to the Senate. Although he did assure me that he will sadly miss the chance to sit in such an interesting session.” Again it was a stretching of the truth, Obi-wan’s real comments were unprintable.  
They had reached the entrance to the central chamber, the guards checking their ID before they could enter. The sheer numbers of guards was a testament to the alarm over security after several attempts to attack the Senate had been thwarted.  
“Will I see you later?” asked Padmé surreptitiously as they entered the chamber.  
“I’ll try.” It had been a whirl of training and meetings with the Jedi Council since he had returned, and he knew it was set to continue the few days he had on Coruscant. Seeing the Chancellor, Anakin gave her a brief smile, “I best go. I will be thinking of you.”  
Padmé stood watching him for a moment, knowing that with heightened responsibility came less time for oneself; perhaps snatched meetings such as this were to be the only times she would see her love.  
“Senator Amidala, shall we take our seats?” Bail Organa was by her side.  
“Of course.” Tearing her eyes away from Anakin, Padmé followed him across the Senate chamber, “It is rare to see the Chancellor these days.” Many of his sessions in the Senate had been carried out by proxy of late, the Chancellor citing exhaustion and stress as the cause of his absence. He was certainly looking far older than ever, his face a mass of lines and wrinkles, his white hair receding far to the back of his temples. Next to Anakin, the young and spritely Jedi Knight, he looked positively ancient, hunched and shrunken in his elaborate gown.  
“It makes it impossible to resolve anything,” said Bail quietly as they came to Naboo’s pod, “which does not help the war effort immensely.”  
Padmé had been concerned enough to vote against the new security measures, which had not made her popular with other Senators. It was ironic that the group of senators once dubbed the Loyalists were now viewed with increasing suspicion.   
“The fear of the CLONE is becoming more and more irrational,” she remarked as they took their seats. “It will not be long until we are all confined to our apartments and the Senate will no longer function.”  
“I wouldn’t tempt fate,” cautioned Senator Organa, “I have heard that very thought mooted by some.”  
“You have?” Padmé frowned. “To restrict our movements around Coruscant is enough, I cannot believe that they would seriously wish to restrict our movements to and from the Senate.”  
“It would not be possible, my lady,” said Bail firmly, “the Republic cannot function without the Senate.”  
“What are we discussing today?” Padmé glanced at the screen, “increased security in the debating chamber through the use of hovercams, suggested abolition of privacy screens, the matter of regional governors-”   
A hush descended and the two Senators transferred their attention to the centre of the chamber. The Chancellor’s pod zoomed across, Mas Amadda calling for order.  
It was the beginning of another long session in the Senate.

“Come with me Anakin, there is someone I want you to meet…”  
“You are so very brave, it must have been terrible…”  
“Tell us, is it true that you single-handedly defeated an entire squadron of CLONE fighters…”  
His head swimming from all the compliments and praise, Anakin leaned over the balcony, enjoying the cool air as it swept over his face. Closing his eyes he imagined himself standing on the edge, folding his arms across his chest and submitting himself to the cradle of the air, falling downwards past the streams of traffic, past the gawping eyes in the windows, reaching the streets below and passing through, falling further into the planet’s fiery core…  
“Excuse me?”  
The female voice stirred him from his visions and he opened his eyes to see Devla Racine standing next to him. Anchor for the Holonet’s daily news bulletin, recently voted the most intelligent female of any species in the Republic, Devla was known for her ruthlessness in seeking out the truth of a story and her combative interview style. All night he had managed to avoid her but, cornered outside on the balcony, he saw no immediate chance of escape.  
“Hello.”  
“I’ve been dying to meet you all evening,” she drawled, eyeing him closely, true feelings masked behind a charming smile, “but I seem to keep missing you. Almost like you were evading me or something…?”  
“No not at all, said Anakin, again contemplating throwing himself over the balcony rail but more quickly this time. “I was just getting some fresh air.”  
“Yeah, it is hot in there. Anyway, where are my manners? I’m Devla Racine…”  
“Reporter for the Holonet,” said Anakin before she finished, taking her proffered hand. Her skin felt cool and clammy. “I’m Anakin Skywalker…”  
“Jedi Knight and Republic hero,” finished Devla for him, squeezing his hand with more familiarity than was necessary. “You’re a very popular man, Commander Skywalker.”  
“Not normally.” He felt weary; so many had wanted to talk to him, to find out his opinion on a million different things when all he wanted to do was crawl into bed.  
“I see.” Her voice was husky and Anakin wondered if she needed to clear her throat. As she joined him by the balcony, she asked, “You’re not used to the attention, is that why you’re hiding out here?”   
“You’re very perceptive.” Once he had wanted attention but tonight, after the long session in the Senate and subsequent meetings with Senator Organa and the Jedi Council, he wanted to be rid of it. Through the glass doors he could just see Senator Amidala talking to Senators Malé-Dee, striking in his long visdic wrappings of ochre, and Terr Taneel, resplendent in a lace-covered gown that almost rivalled Padmé’s cerulean confection.  
“That’s my job.” She sounded naïve but there was something about her artlessness that he was not fooled by, “I imagine it must be tiring talking about your exploits for so long. All those adoring senators telling you how wonderful you are.”  
He smiled. “A Jedi does not care for fame or glory, and therefore these events are nothing more than irrelevant.”  
“You think it’s more for the politicians?”  
He only smiled. “You know I can’t answer that.”  
“That’s a yes then?” Devla laughed when she saw the shutters come down, “don’t worry this is all off the record.”  
I bet it is. But he kept his own charm levels high to match hers; “It is true we have had many successes against the CLONE recently. It is fitting that the Senate would wish to celebrate them.”  
“And you are responsible for them all,” said Devla, taking a sip of the very expensive beverage that had been ordered for the occasion. “How does that feel?”  
“I would not attribute the success to a single individual,” said Anakin carefully, “rather the pulling together of the Republic’s resources against the adversaries we face.”  
Inside he saw Padmé embracing her colleagues; evidently she was leaving.  
“With your link to the High Command and the Senate, as well as the Jedi, I imagine you are in the best position to see this unity of purpose,” agreed Devla. She spoke as though she was already forming the report in her head, “We’d be really interested to do an interview with you, if you have the time.”   
“I don’t think I will have the time,” muttered Anakin, wishing someone would come and rescue him for once, “besides my opinion is hardly important…”  
“Oh but the opinion of a hero of the Republic is so much more exciting for our citizens,” Devla swirled the liquid around in her glass, “they only ever have the opinions of senators and faceless bureaucrats. They would love to hear what you think.”  
Before Anakin was forced to compose another excuse, the doors opened bringing with them the sound of the conversation, chinking glasses and gentle music from inside.   
“Anakin, there you are,” Senator Organa smiled at him, and at Devla, “Ms Racine I did not realise that you were with us here tonight.”  
“It’s a great reception,” smiled Devla, but it was no longer so dazzling. She sensed her aim had been thwarted.  
“They’re starting the speeches,” said Bail, gesturing the young Jedi to follow him, “I’m afraid we’re going to be needing you.”  
“Please excuse me.” Anakin was almost giddy with relief; he left Devla staring after him, a strange look on her face.

Swimming late at night was one of Padmé’s few luxuries; the pool was in the basement of the block of apartments and was nearly always empty so she could have it all to herself. In the semi-darkness it was almost magical with the lights shimmering on the water, reminding her of moonlit swims on Naboo. If she closed her eyes, feeling the cool water around her, she could almost imagine that she was in a lake. All that was missing were the mysterious cries from the mountains, the rush of the breeze through the trees but those she could imagine. Taking a deep breath she plunged under the water, losing her tension as her arms and legs swept through the cool water. She almost made it over half the pool before her lungs felt as though they would burst… Surfacing with a gasp, she wiped her eyes clear of the water and blinked.  
“Padmé.”  
Nearly jumping out of the water with shock, Padmé caught her breath and rotated towards the sound. Then she saw the dark-clad figure stood at the side of the pool. “Anakin?”   
He waved and she swam over to him, her heart thundering in her ears.   
“Don’t do that!”  
“Why, don’t you like surprises?” he crouched down as she reached the edge.   
Padmé smiled. “You know I love surprises, but sneaking up on me like that is hardly fair.”  
“I know I should have warned you but Threepio said I should just come down here and find you.”  
“I’m glad you did.”  
They looked at each other for a moment, realising that they were completely alone.  
“Did you enjoy the rest of your reception?”  
“I never thought I would get away,” grinned Anakin. “Every time I tried to sneak out someone else caught me and made me listen to their thoughts on how they felt the war was going.”  
“Poor thing.” Raising herself out of the water, she strained upwards, just managing to reach his lips to kiss him. But the edge was wet and her hand slipped. Before he could grab her she fell back, disappearing under the water.  
“Padmé?” Not being able to swim, Anakin watched anxiously, hoping she was all right. “Padmé!”  
With a rush of bubbles, Padmé burst out of the water coughing and spluttering. “Oops” she grinned, pushing back the clinging lengths of hair from her face.  
“You’re alright?” Seeing her apparent unconcern he reasoned it was not as dangerous as he feared. “I didn’t know you came swimming at night.”  
“When I can.” She looked at him wetly, the water streaming down from her hair over her face, “why don’t you come in?”  
“Oh no,” said Anakin quickly, “You know I can’t swim.”  
“Well get in and I’ll teach you,” insisted Padmé, leaning against the side of pool. “There’s no-one here to see you.”  
“No, it’s alright,” replied Anakin. He was not sure he would enjoy it, “you’re the water baby.”  
Splashing him, she pouted, “Don’t be so boring, come on it’ll be fun!”  
Looking at her costume he shook his head, “I don’t have anything like that.”  
“You’ve got shorts on haven’t you?” Padmé was feeling mischievous, “or you could swim naked, it won’t matter to me.”  
“I bet it wouldn’t,” said Anakin laughing.  
“And don’t worry about a towel,” added Padmé before he could object about that too, “I can get Threepio to bring us more down, or we can share mine.”  
He knew that she had an answer to every conceivable reason not to so he might as well give in. “Alright, but just this once.”  
Happy that he was going to join her, Padmé pointed to a seat at the side where a towel sat, “You can get changed over there.” In a highly excitable state, Padmé managed about five lengths of the pool before Anakin emerged again, stripped down to his shorts. They were not ideal but since they were the only people in the pool he felt less self-conscious than he might otherwise.  
“This is the shallow end,” said Padmé swimming over to him as he decided which bit of the pool to get into. She found herself admiring his body, gleaming pale in the lights, as she waited impatiently for him to climb down the ladder into the water.  
“Right.” He put a tentative toe in the pool. “It’s cold!”  
“You’ll get used to it,” As he immersed himself slowly, Padmé swam up behind him, enveloping him in a wet embrace. She felt him shiver. “Be brave, it’s only water.”  
“I’m not afraid,” insisted Anakin, getting used to the feel of the water, “just cold.”  
Watching him, Padmé noticed the bacta strapped to his shoulder, the fading bruises on his arms and chest. “What have they been doing to you?” She couldn’t help but give him another embrace.  
In the end they spent over an hour in the pool, Padmé trying to teach Anakin to swim properly and stop splashing around, Anakin trying to kiss her whenever she bossed him around, although Padmé did not mind that, becoming bossier on purpose. They progressed fairly well. By the time they left the pool Anakin had managed to swim a width unaided, although he was still splashing too much for Padmé’s liking. He found that he liked the water though, the way it felt on his skin and the weightlessness of his body. It was different to anything he had experienced before and more fun than he had expected.

“I should try swimming more often,” said Anakin later as they sat in Padmé’s sitting room, watching a film that required little intellectual capacity on the vidscreen.  
Wrapped in her robe, the hood covering her damp curls, Padmé diverted her attention from the screen for a second, “Yes, it’s very relaxing.”  
“I didn’t think I would like it,” replied Anakin thinking she looked unbearably cute and unable to resist bestowing her a kiss. “I wasn’t sure about my arm either, I thought it might go rusty in the water.”  
“Honestly,” giggled Padmé, “for a Jedi you can be very silly.”  
“You’re the silly one for being in love with me,” he smiled. It was a point of tension he had not reconciled within himself; with the war expanding across the Galaxy and the attention upon him increasing, he wondered how they could continue to keep their relationship a secret.  
“I can like who I want,” she said defensively, “it’s you who should not be fraternising with a Senator.”  
“I know,” he sighed, his thoughts returning to his anxieties that they would be found out and prevented from ever seeing each other again. “But I justify it to myself that I fell in love with you before I was a Jedi.”  
“You did?” Although she had always suspected he had been, it was pleasing to hear him admit to it. “When was it?”  
“When you gave me the charm, all those years ago on Naboo,” he said gently, “I didn’t know it at the time but I think it was the beginning of how I feel about you now. I remember you said you cared for me,” he continued, taking her face in his hands, “and something changed between us in that moment.”  
“I know, I remember it too.” Her clean, scrubbed face glowed soft pink, “I think it was more than coincidence.”  
“So now you think we’re meant to be together?”  
“Yes.” She put her arms around his neck, wishing she could express her love for him more eloquently but somehow no words ever seemed adequate.  
“I’ve always thought so.” He was so happy that she felt the same way as him - it meant so much. Making the heartache of absence worthwhile; he buried his face against her shoulder, the soft towel absorbing the few tears that slid down his cheek.  
They watched the film for a few minutes before Padmé began to get bored with the characters’ idle chatter. Playing with his hair, long enough now to curl about his collar, she said, “It’s a shame that negotiations have been suspended again, I really thought we were getting somewhere this time.”  
“Every negotiator thinks that initially,” replied Anakin, already used to how she wrangled politics into every discussion, “but even Obi-wan has not managed to break their resistance. The CLONE are too wily to agree to anything, they will twist it round to meet their own agenda.” He sighed, “The only way we can end this war is to capture Count Dooku and General Grievous. Without their leadership they will have no direction or focus.”  
Padmé disagreed, “That is the conclusion reached by many in the Senate but how long must we continue to suffer before they are caught? And if they are caught they will only become martyrs for their cause, I am certain that there may be more disaffected leaders who would be willing to take their place.”  
“So what do you propose?”  
“I wish I knew,” said Padmé truthfully, for once having no answers. “It is something we are working towards with the Chancellor, I think he is as weary of this war as we all are. He has said he is willing to meet and resolve these issues with us.”  
“Do you think this idea for regional governors will help?”  
“Hopefully,” agreed Padmé cautiously, “with representatives having to remain on Coruscant I see that we need co-ordination at a local level.”  
“But…?”  
“My only reservation is that their powers are limited to ensure that they work in tandem with Senators, not against them.”  
Feeling the tension within her, Anakin felt it was time they dispensed with the politics, “Anyway, I thought we were supposed to be watching this film?”  
“I was but it wasn’t really grabbing my attention,” said Padmé, “you keep distracting me.”  
“So it’s my fault is it?” he grinned, dodging a poorly aimed slap, “hey, what is this? Attack Anakin day?”  
“Just watch the film,” laughed Padmé, leaning across and kissing him.  
“I’d rather watch you,” sighed Anakin, pulling her even closer.  
“Well watch me then,” she said in exasperation. “But at least let me watch the film.”  
They sat together in comfortable silence for a while but it was not long until Anakin became restless again. “It seems pretty obvious what’s happening,” he scoffed, “boy meets girl, girl rejects boy, boy never gives up hope and eventually the girl comes round.” He thought about for a moment, “Sounds familiar actually… Hey! I was watching that.”   
While he had been talking, Padmé had taken it upon herself to switch off the vidscreen. “No you weren’t,” she chided, ignoring his loud protestations, “and you don’t have any intention of watching it.”  
He looked at her penitently, fluttering his eyelashes furiously, “I promise I’ll shut up.”  
“Stop it!” cried Padmé in irritation; “you’re driving me crazy!”  
“You’re driving me crazy too,” he said huskily, gripping her tighter, even in a plain and functional towelling robe she looked so enticing.  
Opening her mouth wide at his audacity, Padmé found herself unable to think of anything witty in reply. Instead she found herself laughing and soon Anakin was laughing too, more at the absurdity of their situation than anything else – they had been so long apart that they were so unsure how to act around each other.  
“Shall we finish watching this film then,” Anakin’s finger poised on the control port.  
Nodding, Padmé settled against him thinking, not for the first time, how much happier she felt when Anakin was close to her. Without him she felt as though a part of her was missing.

As the Chancellor’s transport landed by the towering edifice of offices, Anakin was already there, waiting for him, his dark cloak flapping in the breeze that swept across the isolated platform. He was not looking forward to his duties that day. Despite a quiet night with Padmé, he had woken up with a headache, the throbbing pain threatening to split his skull in two. Then, an urgent message had awaited him on his return to the Temple, the Chancellor asking him to attend a hastily convened session over the vote for regional governors, to impress upon the Senate the importance of the vote they were making for the entire war effort. With no time to inform Obi-wan, he had left him a brief message. It was too bad if the Jedi needed him for anything, he could hardly ignore a summons from the Chancellor.  
Dressed in his distinctive patterned robes, a heavy fur coat protecting him against the bitterness of the wind, Chancellor Palpatine emerged from his armoured transport, accompanied by his elite guards and a subdued Mas Amadda. The guards, wearing the same discreet insignia on their shoulder as Anakin, disappeared as Palpatine approached the young man who waited to greet him. “Good morning Anakin” he asked pleasantly, but seeing the sombre look on the young man’s face he asked with more concern if he was well.  
“It is nothing, merely a headache.” Anakin was certain that it would go away eventually, “you missed a good reception last night, your Excellency.”   
“I am sure that I did,” Palpatine too sounded weary and Anakin offered him his arm, “but there are so many things to attend to these days.” Taking his arm he smiled, “Thank you Anakin. I shall need a stick soon. Shall we go on?”  
They headed towards the Senate, the Chancellor leaning heavily on the young Jedi for support, Anakin trying to concentrate on what the Chancellor was telling him about the current situation in the Core systems. The war was definitely taking its toll, more systems leaving the Republic to join the CLONE or wavering in their support despite the recent successes. “The regional governors sound like a necessity, to inspire commitment to this war effort more than anything,” he commented, “it sounds as if the Senate is losing control.”  
“You are very astute Anakin,” said the Chancellor, “that is the situation we face, a lack of control, a lack of order. There is fear; and fear can sometimes bring order but it also brings panic and chaos if we let it. Unfortunately we are facing this latter situation at present.”  
As they entered the main hallway of the Senate Office Building, they passed several Senators that Anakin recognised. One of them was Padmé, dressed in one of her more spectacular Senatorial gowns, standing chatting to Senators Organa and Mon Mothma. As he walked resolutely past her, he made sure not to make any eye contact which would betray his interest, keeping all his attention on the Chancellor.  
Nonetheless the Chancellor noticed the young woman, “Senator Amidala looks particularly enchanting today, don’t you think?”  
Startled, Anakin decided to lie, “I did not notice."  
"I have heard it said that she has been spending more time entertaining potential suitors than on Senate business," continued the Chancellor, watching the young man carefully, "I cannot imagine that is true though, can you?”  
Anakin was not surprised that Padmé was the subject of rumours, after all he had warned her that she would attract enemies with her fiery stance on the war. "It hardly matters if it is true. The senators must have something to talk about whilst they are waiting to enter,” he grunted, far less interested in listening to gossip than he was in listening to orders.  
“You are right of course, Anakin,” continued the Chancellor, “and I wouldn’t have listened but I can hardly ignore anything about Senator Amidala. After all she is almost family."  
“It is just idle gossip, your Excellency," repeated Anakin confidently, wondering if the Chancellor was becoming senile under the strain of the war. "Senator Amidala takes her role very seriously.”  
“That’s what I thought,” continued the Chancellor, “But then again, rumours have to come from somewhere.”  
Glancing behind him, Anakin saw that Padmé was following behind them, still locked in conversation with Bail Organa. “Most rumours are what people want to believe,” he said crisply, “not the truth.”  
“Indeed, indeed, and Anakin, there is no need to concern yourself with the grubby details of politics,” the Chancellor patted his arm paternally, “I have news that you are needed somewhere of great strategic importance.”

It was late afternoon by the time he returned to the Temple, his wristband pulsating gently subsumed under the weight of messages sent to it by Obi-wan. But he had already composed his argument carefully; besides the Chancellor had been grateful for his presence in the debating chamber and for his rousing speech which reminded the Senate of the many sacrifices that the Jedi were enduring for the continuation of the war effort. However, the vote had not gone entirely to plan, many disagreements had ensued over the exact role and authority of the governors, how answerable they were to the Senate rather than the bureaucracy, would they be elected or selected by the Senate… the debates had gone on and on and on. It was remarkable, thought Anakin, that the Republic had ever been conceived as an idea. It worked well enough in peace-time but now they needed action it was continuously stalling.  
Coming to the door that led to Obi-wan’s quarters he lifted his hand, preparing to knock but it swung open before his hand connected with the door. Obi-wan stood across the threshold his face stony. Where have you been, it said.  
“I can explain,” said Anakin, immediately.  
“I hope so,” Obi-wan’s expression did not change, “because I have been trying to get hold of you all day.”  
Without another word, Obi-wan disappeared into his two-roomed apartment. Anakin wandered in after him, used to the sparsely furnished surroundings as he was his own. Pulling up a chair, he waited for Obi-wan to return from whatever he was doing.  
It transpired that he was fixing them both a drink. “Take a seat,” he said as he emerged from the other room, “oh, I can see that you have.”  
“You know me,” quipped Anakin, trying anything to lighten the tense atmosphere.  
“Yes I do Anakin,” Obi-wan took a seat next to him, “only too well.”  
“You must have got my note,” he said defensively, seeing the very holopad he had left lying on the table.  
“That doesn’t excuse anything,” Obi-wan leant against the chair wearily, “I needed to speak to you Anakin, and then I find that you are holed up all day in the Senate. We have to go away tomorrow and I can’t-”  
“Woah, wait a minute,” Anakin put his drink down. “We’re going away tomorrow? But I thought…”  
“They need us,” was all he said, knowing that they had been promised at least ten days rest. So far they had only been back four days.  
It was useless to pretend otherwise. “Where are we going?”  
“That’s why I’ve been wanting to speak to you.” He looked at him meaningfully, “And this is to remain confidential. They want to send us to Kessel.”  
A thousand tales flooded into his head… the fearsome spice mines that had left the planet barren and scarred, the rapacious clans and military government that caused endless miseries for its settlers. Even though life as a slave had been harsh still they cheered each other up by thinking how lucky they were not to be miners on Kessel. “The Chancellor intimated to me we would be sent somewhere of strategic importance,” he murmured, “He must have meant Kessel.”  
“I would hardly say it was of strategic importance,” Obi-wan brushed crumbs from the table’s surface. “There is a meeting in an hour with the Chancellor and Senator Organa. It is a good thing you returned when you did.”  
“Coincidence, eh?” Anakin smiled, trying to remain upbeat in the face of another stupefying meeting.  
“So maybe you can tell me what you have been up to all day whilst we wait,” the elder Jedi leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as his weight shifted.  
“With pleasure,” he was not going to let Obi-wan’s suspicion get the better of him. “It started with an early morning call to the Senate…”

“We simply don’t see how Kessel is of tactical importance.”  
The Jedi had been arguing the same point for most the meeting, trying to understand why the Chancellor, and his representative on the High Command Tarkin, were adamant that it was of vital urgency to secure their support.  
“It is very important,” reiterated Tarkin in his clipped accent, pointing to a hologram of the Galaxy projected onto the space in front of them. “Kessel has a great deal of influence within the system. If Kessel were to fall, the rest of the system would fall with it. We simply cannot afford to lose it.”  
Obi-wan looked with despair at Ki adi mundi. It was telling for them that Senator Organa, leader of the army, was not present. They could not believe he would have agreed to this move considering the more immediate flash-points in the Galaxy. “But the Chief Minister has been wavering in support for months now. If Kessel were to leave the Republic surely they would have done so already?”  
“They are facing intense bombardment from the CLONE,” replied Tarkin, his cadaverous face blank of expression, “which they were not facing months ago. This could tip the balance between their support or their withdrawal from the Republic.”  
“It seems to us that you do not think the citizens of Kessel are worth the same support as our other systems, Master Kenobi,” said the Chancellor. His voice was soft but there was an underlying menace in his words that hinted at darker meanings. "They have asked for our support, are you saying we should deny them that support?"  
“Not at all, your Excellency.” It was not lost on the Jedi that the spice was an important source of funds for the Republic; this seemed to be the motivation that was influencing the Senate’s determination to send the elite squadron not the needs of the war. “I do not question the sending of support. The Order feels that however it is not necessary to send the elite squadron. There are systems more valuable than Kessel which are to fall and we need to focus our resources on those.”  
“With respect,” said Tarkin coldly, “in response to available intelligence, the High Command hierarchy of need has determined that Kessel is where we should focus our attention.”  
“And Senator Organa agrees with this?”  
“He does.”  
“Then we should proceed immediately,” it was Anakin who spoke, tired of all the to-ing and fro-ing that had ensued. “The more we delay the more the CLONE will find ways to take advantage.”  
Obi-wan looked at him sharply. He was not entirely convinced that Senator Organa was of one mind with Palpatine and Tarkin but he had no evidence otherwise.   
“Hear, hear,” agreed the rest of the Jedi who formed the main corpus of the squadron, only Ki ali mundi and Obi-wan were less convinced about the whole enterprise.  
“Master Kenobi?” Palpatine was looking at him expectantly, “your Knights are ready, can I assume that you are with them?”  
Frustrated and impotent against the sweeping tide in favour, Obi-wan could only nod in acquiescence, “I am.”  
“Excellent,” the Chancellor looked relieved, “then we will begin preparations immediately for your departure. We will leave those in your capable hands, Tarkin.”  
“Thank you, your Excellency.” Tarkin bowed obsequiously as the elderly Chancellor rose from his seat.   
Bowing, the Jedi made their exit. Obi-wan was concerned. Anakin was increasingly becoming unofficial leader of the elite squadron due to his influence with the younger Jedi and yet he seemed too ready to agree with the Executive and Senate over matters of war. Again, he wasn’t sure that his young colleague was as distant from Palpatine as he should be.

“You’re going again,” Padmé curled up beside him on the couch, casually attired in a long white dress, her hair free of its usual complicated hairstyle. “And so soon.”  
“Things have changed.” Gently he stroked her hair, falling in profusion about her shoulders. She looked so beautiful, dressed in simple attire with none of the artifice or high drama of her Senate gowns. “I know I promised, I’m sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault,” tenderly she kissed his lips, pleased as he responded passionately. “Besides, I’m used to it now.”  
“I knew you would be,” he smiled fondly, brushing her nose with his fingertip. “Time’ll go quickly. I’ll be back before you know it.”  
She wanted to believe him and returned his smile. “Where are they sending you?”  
“I can’t tell you,” he whispered, “top secret.”  
“They like sending you on those, don’t they,” she said archly. He could be gone for months and there would be no information.  
“Something like that.” There had been something about Obi-wan’s demeanour after the meeting that gave him a warning. He had asked him what was wrong, but as usual Obi-wan had acted as if he, Anakin, should already know what the matter was. They had not argued exactly but there was a parting with bad feeling either side. Now with Padmé’s calming influence he was beginning to think that maybe he had undermined his authority. After all, Obi-wan was the nominal head of the elite corps.  
“Are you alright?” She saw the tension in his expression.  
“I was just thinking about Obi-wan,” sighing he leant his head against her shoulder, “I think I upset him today, I undermined his authority and he hates that.”  
“That’s not like you,” she teased but seeing that he did not smile she asked, “Is it serious?”  
“I hope not.”  
Taking his hand she squeezed it, “You’ll have to make it up to him.”  
“Yes, for once it was my fault,” he couldn’t help a grin.  
“That’s bad,” pretending to frown, she climbed stiffly from the couch. “I need a drink. Do you want anything?”  
“No thank you,” he let go of her hand as she left him. Sighing deeply, Anakin leaned against the couch. Part of him wanted to be on his way to Kessel already; the wait was only delaying the inevitable. Something prevented him from settling; even the proximity to Padmé could not diminish his agitation. It was more than his argument with Obi-wan, of that he was certain. But what was it?

"How can I help you, Obi-wan?"  
Seeking peace of mind after the strains of the campaign meeting and his clash with Anakin, Obi-wan had requested an audience with Mace Windu. Meeting in the tranquil surroundings of a meditation room, Obi-wan felt an immediate change in his emotions, a feeling of calm that had not existed in the tense conditions of the Senate. He was beginning to think that the so-called Evangelical Jedi had a point; the world outside the Temple was not conducive to the Jedi spirit. It also brought to mind Anakin's complaint about the tensions running high on Coruscant; it was little wonder they were increasingly snapping at each other.  
"It concerns the continuing direction of the war, I fear that the Elite Squadron is increasingly being used by the Chancellor and his cronies to achieve their own ends rather than the needs of the Republic," said Obi-wan. He informed the Jedi Master of the absence of Senator Organa at the most recent campaign meeting and the dominance of Tarkin, a convenient favourite of the Chancellor.  
"We have been concerned for a while about the interests of the Chancellor," confirmed Mace, "and the interest that he takes in Anakin Skywalker. He has become the only channel through which the Chancellor will engage with the Order." Attempts to secure an audience with the Chancellor had met with silence from his office, unless Skywalker was involved.  
It was time for Obi-wan to admit that he too had reservations about Anakin's relationship. "Anakin himself does wonder why he seemed to be signalled out for special treatment and at first we both believed it to be a rather, how shall I put it, paternal interest. But it worries me that the Chancellor expects Anakin to become his mouthpiece in the Temple, as well as expecting him to represent the Jedi in the Senate."  
"Have you addressed this with Anakin?" asked Mace carefully, knowing it was not Council policy to interfere with the relationships between Jedi, although in this case the matter of Anakin's loyalty could potentially be compromised. Already, a growing faction of Jedi, most of them Evangelicals, were calling for the Jedi to distance themselves from the Republic and it's army, and were concerned by the seeming worldliness of some of the younger Jedi, many of whom clustered around Anakin for inspiration.  
Sensing Mace's concerns, Obi-wan admitted that he had not. "Anakin sees it as his duty to attend the Senate when the Chancellor wishes but until today I did not think it could affect his loyalty to the Order." Carefully he explained what had transpired in the campaign room, making sure that he underlined the strain that Anakin was under which could make him irritable. "I know now that I must address his relationship with the Chancellor before it causes more problems of this kind."  
"It is likely that the Council will advise greater distance from the Senate," cautioned Mace, "it will make it more difficult for Anakin to negotiate between the two. However, he may have his uses. Keep an eye on him, Obi-wan, unofficially of course. Anakin may be a figurehead for the Republic and this war but he must not become isolated from the Jedi Order."  
"Anakin will not like it if he finds out we doubt his loyalty," murmured Obi-wan, feeling some discomfort with the discussions taking place in the Temple. It was clear that the Evangelicals were slowly gaining the upper hand and that would make it difficult for all Jedi committed to working directly with the Republic.  
"We do not doubt his loyalty," soothed the elder Jedi, aware that Obi-wan was deeply attached to his former student, "not when he has proved himself amenable to reminding the Senate of the presence and commitment of our Order. However, the Chancellor may wish to use him for his own ends and Anakin, in his willingness to help the Republic, may be drawn into his schemes. We must be vigilant!"  
"Then we share the same concern," replied Obi-wan with relief, "I will do all I can to ensure that the actions of the Chancellor does not drive Anakin away from us."

Later, Obi-wan met with Anakin back at his quarters. The discussion was ostensibly about their imminent departure but Obi-wan also wanted to make amends with his friend, or at least let Anakin know he was not angry with him for his attitude in the meeting. He was right to be concerned, for as soon as he came into contact with the young man he realised that an apology was in the air.  
"I am sorry I undermined you in the meeting today," said Anakin as soon as he was safely inside Obi-wan's apartment, taking a seat upon the functional couch, "I did not realise that the Admiral's absence was engineered..."  
"What do you mean, engineered?” Obi-wan carried over two cups of the hot brew he favoured, placing them on the table in front of the younger man. Then he took a seat next to his friend.  
"He was told the wrong location for the meeting," explained Anakin, handing Obi-wan a flimplast by way of evidence, "and by the time he discovered the right location, he had missed it entirely."  
"Who told you this?" Looking blankly at the item, Obi-wan could not help being suspicious, Anakin seemed a bit too well informed.  
"The Admiral himself," replied the young Jedi, who had happened to meet the Senator on his return to the Temple; Organa had been anxious to explain to someone the reason for his absence and it had been fortunate that he had met Anakin. "He was very embarrassed by what happened. He thinks it might damage his standing in the High Command, but I assured him that it had not damaged his standing with the Jedi Order."  
"Good," said Obi-wan, beginning to think he had underestimated Anakin, "but who would want to prevent Senator Organa from reaching the meeting?" It seemed a mystery to him.  
"I have my own suspicions," said Anakin, "But there is a clue in that message I gave you. Many who serve the Chancellor do not like the Senator because of his political views. They see him as an obstruction to their own plans."  
"They have told you this?"  
"Not in so many words," admitted Anakin with a grin, “it is very easy to read the minds of grasping fools."   
"Indeed." This was an interesting development: Anakin was concerned as he was about some of the influences around the Chancellor. "Were you going to reveal this information to anyone?"  
"Eventually," said Anakin defensively, "I needed actual proof first. But this debacle with the Admiral has provided some proof. He showed me that the information he was sent about the meeting bears the insignia of the Chancellor's office.” Again he pointed to the flimplast that Obi-wan was frustratingly ignoring.  
Finally Obi-wan too a close look at the message and saw that Anakin was telling the truth. “Do you think the Chancellor is aware of what is happening?"  
"I don't know," admitted Anakin, "his mind is much harder to read but he seems awfully tired and distracted of late. If any official was to undermine him, I wonder if he would even notice in his current frame of mind.”  
"Yes he is certainly looking more frail recently," agreed Obi-wan. He wondered if it would be the right time to tell Anakin of his conversation with Mace Windu. "Anakin I am glad you brought this up, I was only having a conversation this evening with Master Windu about my concerns that the Elite Squadron is becoming prey to the whims of Palpatine's bureaucrats. This insane mission to Kessel only proves that."  
“Yes, after speaking with the Admiral I now understand your concern,” said Anakin amiably; speaking to Senator Organa had put a new perspective on things, clearing up some nagging doubts in his own mind. “Do you think I should speak to the Chancellor about this matter? He claims to be interested in my views after all."  
“I think that might be too dangerous at this juncture, Anakin," warned Obi-wan, taking a long sip of his drink now that it had cooled, "as you say we have little proof of skulduggery. The message to the Admiral could easily be written off as accidental so I think we need more solid evidence before we make a move."  
"Very well," replied Anakin, not disappointed as he had been worrying over how exactly he would broach such a matter with the Chancellor. "I'll keep my eyes and ears open in the meantime."  
Obi-wan rarely admitted it but he was glad of Anakin's close connection to the Chancellor, "But be careful, Anakin, these bureaucrats can be slippery fellows."  
"Tell me about it," sighed Anakin dramatically," they are suspicious of everyone and everything in their pursuit of control. Fortunately the confidence the Chancellor seems to have in me has kept me out of trouble so far."  
He felt more confident now that he knew the young man did not overestimate his own chances of remaining immune from the power struggles taking place at the heart of the Republic. “Yes, be careful, the bureaucrats will only become more powerful if the changes in the constitution are ratified by the Senate. We Jedi used to think that we could remain distanced from the petty squabbles of government but it is becoming increasingly evident that we cannot.”

The planet of Kessel would win no awards as a holiday destination, nor as a place to emigrate to; a dry, barren planet composed of rock in varying shades of grey, treacherous mountains, scattered settlements and a notorious prison, its only saving grace was the rare mineral, or spice, which was mined from beneath its otherwise inhospitable surface. With it’s only atmosphere artificially provided by huge, sprawling factories and difficult travelling conditions, fighting a war was made all the harder. As Obi-wan and Anakin reflected, if it was not for the importance of the mineral, which was used in a variety of vital manufacturing processes on Coruscant, as well as a drug, but which was controlled by some of the most shady criminal families in the Galaxy, the Republic would have abandoned Kessel to the CLONE long ago. The irony of having to protect the brutal and repressive military regime which ran the planet was also not lost on the two Jedi and they made a pact to relieve the trouble on Kessel as quickly as they could.  
The two Jedi had been locked inside the campaign room aboard the Army’s flagship star fighter for what seemed like days, thrashing out their strategy. Eventually they had decided that Obi-wan would lead half the Army to the capital Kessendra to support the regime whilst Anakin would take the other half to relieve the bombardment of the spice mines by the CLONE.   
“We’ll rendezvous by this mountain here, Malachor,” said Obi-wan, pointing to a particularly hostile piece of territory on the illuminated map. “The CLONE have avoided this area so far which makes me think it will be an adequate hiding place.”  
“They have probably been avoiding it for a very good reason,” commented Anakin darkly; he had been reading about Kessel in the star charts and it had not put his mind at ease, particularly when he had read about the strange ruins and temples connected to the Sith.  
“It’s close to one of the factories,” went on Obi-wan, trying to keep the atmosphere in the room as chipper as possible, “but we should take the breathing apparatus just in case. We cannot trust the CLONE not to sabotage the obvious.”  
Putting his holopad down, Anakin looked strained. “I have a bad feeling about this place.”  
“What’s not to like?” said Obi-wan, finding himself in the strange position of having to cheer up his normally irrepressible comrade, “Kessel has so much to recommend it, mining, crime, the prisons-“  
“Alright, alright,” cut in Anakin, forcing a smile in response to his friend’s obvious attempts to lighten the mood, “I’ll cheer up. It’s just, this place. I feel something…” He trailed off, unable to put into words what he felt but unable to shake off the feeling of malevolence.  
“Beware your feelings, Anakin,” cautioned Obi-wan, starting to download the ship’s detailed map to their own holopads, “remember what happened on Korriban. I don’t want to lose you to the dark side.”  
“You won’t,” said Anakin emphatically, “it’s just a feeling, that’s all. I can control it.”  
“Good.” The download complete, Obi-wan handed over a holopad to Anakin. “Now, be careful not to lose this, our strategy is in here. I’ve encrypted it so hopefully if it does accidentally fall into CLONE hands they won’t be able to make head or tail of it.”  
With their armies ready to leave, Obi-wan and Anakin made their farewells. Stuffing his lightsaber into his belt, Anakin took a deep breath and made his way over to where the Commander of his forces was waiting for orders. The nagging feeling that something terrible was waiting for him on this planet had not left him and he knew that he had to be extra vigilant. 

The long trek to the mines took several days for Anakin and his army, travelling undercover of mountains in one of the long, barren valleys which characterised the planet. Keeping transport to a minimum in case of discovery, most of the army, including Anakin, travelled on foot, carrying their few possessions on their backs. With a lack of vegetation or living species to break up the tedium of the rocky outcrops, Kessel was overwhelmingly monotonous and as he marched along, Anakin found he really had to concentrate to prevent his mind going into overdrive from the lack of visual stimulation. His army comrades were pleasant enough to speak with, but there was only so much discussion that one could have when keeping up an enforced pace and conversations remained essential and limited. For days they had marched, and camped out at night in the freezing temperatures, without seeing a sign of the CLONE. Consulting the map, Anakin realised that they were still at least five days away from their target, the mines of Strathchek Plo. Fortunately they had enough provisions, the suppliers of dried food becoming more ingenious as to how much nutrition they could cram into a seemingly tiny dark brown bar (Anakin wondered why all the dried foodstuffs were dark brown and had considered writing to the suppliers to see if they could somehow make them look more appealing). However, Anakin took the decision to cover more ground during the day, the sooner they reached their target the better.  
On the third day, Anakin was certain that someone or something was watching them. However neither he nor his commanders could find a reason for his concern; sending out scouts into the surrounding mountains uncovered no hiding CLONE troops or locals. It was only until the main army reached the narrow pass known as Mendal Plo, which marked the beginnings of the long descent down to the mine, that Anakin realised his premonition had been correct. For waiting for them in the pass was the CLONE, at their head two strident figures carrying lightsabers who suspiciously looked like Jedi. Dark Jedi….  
With no time to analyse how his scouts had managed to miss the presence of the CLONE army, Anakin yelled the command to “Charge!” In the confines of the pass there was little attempt at refining the strategy and the CLONE certainly expected no quarter as they immediately rushed into battle. Focusing his attempts on the two Jedi leading the army, Anakin battled his way through the CLONE troops; at first they seemed to evade him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the pass until it was too late for Anakin to turn back, he was surrounded by the CLONE on all sides. Belatedly he realised it had been the intention of the two Jedi all along. Despite his superior combat skills, eventually Anakin was overwhelmed, losing his lightsaber and descending into darkness as the Jedi and their troops closed in.

Waking up, Anakin found himself bound by his hands and feet, lying on the clean white floor of a fast moving transport. Looking to his left he could see two feet, clad in leather boots similar to those worn by a Jedi. Coughing, he tried to raise his head to see who the feet belonged to but a kick in his side forced his head back down. “Hey!” he managed, thinking whilst they had not gagged him he could at least be obnoxious.  
“Sorry,” said a deep voice, clearly belonging to another pair of feet he had not immediately noticed to his right. “Were we disturbing your sleep?”  
“A little,” replied Anakin as brightly as he could, “I was just trying to see who my illustrious captors were.”  
A familiar face was suddenly thrust into view. “Hello Anakin.”  
It was Brynx; Anakin was hardly surprised, if he was honest, that the arrogant young man had joined the CLONE but his presence on Kessel also pointed to the influence of Dooku. Perhaps that was the malevolent force that Anakin had sensed. “Hello Brynx,” he said casually as though he was meeting him in the Jedi Temple. “Assisting the CLONE are you?”  
The former Jedi laughed and kicked Anakin again for good measure, “Being cocky isn’t going to get you out of trouble. No, Tremmel and I aren’t working for the poxy CLONE, I imagine you can guess who our Master is?”  
Anakin couldn’t help a chuckle, although it meant another good kicking from the other Jedi, who was obviously known as Tremmel. “It’s not hard now, is it? There aren’t that many evil Jedi stalking the Universe at the moment.” He coughed again, a thin trail of blood leaking from his nose which he attempted to clear away with his tongue.  
“Always thinking you’re so clever, Anakin,” Brynx said with a sneer, returning to his perusal of the holopad he had stolen from the captive Jedi. “Not clever enough to prevent getting caught though, eh?”  
“Perhaps I wanted to get caught,” muttered Anakin, feeling his hands starting to go numb from the tightness of the cords on his wrists. If Dooku was on Kessel then this would surely be an opportunity to get close to his nemesis.  
But Brynx was no longer listening, his frustration growing as he was unable to access the content of the holopad. “What have you done to this?” he asked Anakin angrily.  
“Nothing,” said Anakin innocently, “it seems to work for me.” It earned him another swift and brutal kick, which this time really hurt the young Jedi’s already bruised and battered body. But Anakin managed to suppress his cry of pain; after all he had plenty of practice from when he had been a slave.  
“He’s no fun,” muttered the deeper tones of Tremmel from somewhere above him, “perhaps he will start to scream when we torture him properly?”  
“Yes, we’ll test if he really is the hero with no fear,” grinned Brynx, throwing the useless holopad casually at Anakin’s head. It struck the captive’s temple before clattering to the floor. “I’ll work that out later.”  
Suddenly the transport took a sharp right and came to an abrupt stop. After a short pause, during which Anakin could hear the sharp squeal of metal (possibly a gate opening) the transport was moving forward again, although at a slower pace than before. Obviously it was close to its destination. In a moment, Anakin found himself being grabbed roughly, hauled upwards from the floor and a dark cloth placed over his eyes and nose, leaving only his mouth visible. With the bindings removed from his legs he knew he was being taken somewhere. “Now walk,” came the voice of Brynx from behind him, pushing him forward with a brutal shove to his back. His feet automatically obeyed, the only part of him which was not screaming with pain and Anakin had to bite his tongue to stop himself from groaning with the agony of his position. Instead of concentrating on the pain, he concentrated on the textures of the surfaces beneath his feet, at first stumbling over crumbled rocks underfoot before coming to a halt, hearing the mechanical whirrings of what he supposed to be a door, then being pushed forward onto a much smoother surface. The sudden change in air quality was also noticeable; from cold and thin to warm and stale, his nose picking up scents of machinery and oil, of sweat and unwashed bodies. Perhaps he was entering one of the atmosphere factories. There was little time to ask however as he was being forced on the march again, his captor Brynx doing all he could to make the journey as uncomfortable for him as possible. As they progressed through the building, the smell of the machinery became overwhelming to Anakin but gave him hope that there could be potential distractions which would help him effect an escape where possible. But shorn of his comlink, lightsaber and holopad there was little opportunity to get a message to Obi-wan; that had to be his first priority.  
Eventually he heard the soft whirring of another door, and he was pushed forwards roughly, almost falling over. However, he maintained his balance and felt the dark material being wrenched from his eyes. Anakin found himself in a nondescript room, panelled in the functional white plastic used across the Galaxy in corridors, meeting rooms, transports, and anywhere that eschewed decoration. However, it was the inhabitant of the room which immediately caught his interest. Standing by a large window, overlooking a large mountain range, was, as he suspected, Count Dooku.  
Turning round, his eyes bored into Anakin for a moment before he said, “Thank you, Brynx, you have done well. I trust you have not damaged my treasure too much?”  
“Not too much,” smirked the former Jedi, “he might have a few new bruises.”  
“This is not the time for taking out your own petty revenge, Brynx,” intoned Dooku, coming over to where Anakin stood. Casually he lifted his hand and the bindings fell away from Anakin’s wrists. “I told you to make sure that this young man was unharmed.”  
“He has not been damaged,” replied Brynx defensively, sounding like a spoiled child being told off for eating too much cake. “He didn’t even cry out.”  
“He wouldn’t,” said Dooku dismissively. “Now Brynx I want you to go and continue your training with Tremmel, remembering what I told you. A Sith uses his emotions for strength, not for weakness. And indulging our trivial revenge fantasies is certainly a weakness that you must curb if you want to become a great Sith.”  
“Yes Master,” said a more subdued Brynx. Bowing fitfully, he left the room, the door closing softly behind him.  
Anakin had been watching the exchange with growing amusement as well as alarm; whilst it seemed clear that Dooku had turned his hand again to training himself an army of dark Jedi or Sith, his choice of Jedi was obviously incredibly compromised. Brynx had barely been an adequate Jedi and now he was a barely adequate Sith.  
“What do you find so amusing?” inquired Dooku, seeing the small smile playing on the young man’s lips. “Brynx is rather wayward, but I thought you might have sympathy with his position.”  
“Not at all, on the contrary, it took him far longer than most Jedi to pass the Trials,” said Anakin, ignoring the slight, “and only a few months to betray the Order.”  
“So it is not a surprise to find he has joined me?”  
“No,” said Anakin boldly, finally mastering the aching in his joints and back. Cautiously he rubbed his wrists to try and get some circulation back into his hands, “My surprise is more that you would seek to train such a terrible Jedi.”  
If he was taken aback by Anakin’s comment, Dooku did not show it. “Come and sit down, Anakin, you must be tired from your long trek out here.” He pointed to a table in the corner of the room where two chairs were arranged facing each other. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”  
He was desperately dehydrated but could not imagine that anything Dooku would give him would be safe so he gracefully declined the offer. However, he did take a seat at the table which, on inspection, had lying on its surface all his missing possessions; his lightsaber, holopad and comlink. Was Dooku taking a huge risk in placing them there or was it part of the wider game he was playing? Anakin sensibly decided to incline towards the latter thought.  
“Well Anakin,” began Dooku, taking the seat opposite him. “I am sorry if my troops have manhandled you roughly, I did tell them to be careful. You are my greatest prize after all.”  
Anakin wished he would get to the point and told him so, “There is no need for fake concern or flowery words, Dooku, just tell me why you have brought me here.”  
“Still an impatient young man I see, I wonder if Obi-wan will ever manage to curb that within you?” said Dooku with an approximation of despair, “but very well, I will come straight to the point. I wish to make you an offer. I have been watching your career with interest, Skywalker, and despite your loyalty to the Jedi and the Republic I think you have far greater talent then either of those stale and stagnant bodies will recognise. Your future lies, Anakin, not in peace-keeping but in conflict! Your talents are those of the warrior, not the negotiator! Leave that to the Jedi and join me; I can hone your talents in ways that Obi-wan would never dream could be possible. He tries to be a warrior but he is traditional Jedi, cold, distant, impassive. How can one evolve when one is told to discredit the very feelings that make us who we are? And your strength Anakin lies in harnessing those very feelings which the Jedi would have you deny. After all, is it not prophesied that you will hold the forces of light and dark in balance?”  
“I believe so,” said Anakin coolly.  
“But how can the Jedi understand what it means to hold the two in balance when they would only recognise the light side of the Force?”  
“But that pertains to the Sith also,” Anakin pointed out, “they will only recognise the dark side of the Force.”  
“Yes, but I am not suggesting that you become a Sith, Anakin. My offer is to train you to take advantage of all your powers, to combine the light and the dark to make the most powerful Jedi that ever lived! Is that not what the prophecy states? You would be like the Jedi of old, the Knights of the Old Republic who held the powers of light and darkness in balance and used them to rule wisely and fearlessly.”  
There was much sense in what Dooku said, after all Obi-wan had struggled to teach him how he could manage his connection to both sides of the Force. Denial of the dark side was the only solution from the perspective of Jedi teaching and it was a teaching that he had always found difficult to reconcile with his latent powers and the knowledge contained in the prophecy. Yet something in his heart told him not to trust Dooku; after Obi-wan’s investigations into the Republic army, he was certain that Dooku, despite his denials, was a devotee of the Sith. “What benefit would you gain from training me?” he asked, deciding to be blunt with Dooku, after all it was clear that the old man was trying to read his mind.  
“I need your help, Anakin,” began Dooku, getting up from his seat and going over to the window. “I have tried to tell this to Obi-wan, to the Jedi Council, however they have not listened and now the Republic is threatened even more from the danger that they allow to remain on Coruscant.”  
“You mean the Sith Lord?”  
“I do.” Dooku turned back to the young man so that he was silhouetted against the light. “I need help, Anakin, to vanquish this Sith. Hs power is too strong for me to defeat him alone. I am asking that you allow me to train you so that together we can overcome the rotten core at the heart of the Republic and restore order and peace to the Galaxy.”  
If Anakin was honest it was a tempting offer; he was eager to harness his latent emotions for the good of the Republic, and the idea that he could save the Republic from almost certain doom was intoxicating to the young man whose ambitions had grown from humble beginnings. But the sticking point was that he would have to betray the Jedi and the Republic to accomplish the task by siding with its enemies. And that he could not justify to himself, “I’m sorry Dooku, but you are asking the wrong man. I am a Jedi, I am loyal to the Republic and I would rather tackle the problem from within the Republic, rather than joining with its sworn opponents.”  
Dooku looked surprised, “I credited you with intelligence young Skywalker but it seems you are only to disappoint me. Surely you are aware that the Jedi Council are labouring under the impression that the Republic is safe as long as they remain on Coruscant? They have an almost idiotic belief in their connection to the Force to guide them whilst they really remain in darkness to what is happening beneath their very eyes!”  
“There may be some growing voices in the Temple that removing themselves from the affairs of the Galaxy is in the Jedi’s best interests,” argued Anakin, “however there are enough that remain clear-headed and able to see that supporting the Republic is for the good of all.”  
“Piffle,” snorted Dooku contemptuously. “But I see that you have made up your mind to remain with those idiots inside the Temple. It will be your downfall one day, believe me.”  
“We shall have to agree to disagree,” replied Anakin reasonably, being careful not to let Dooku’s carefully calculated words get the better of him.  
“However, since you will not join me, you leave me no choice,” Dooku went on, coming back over to the table where Anakin sat. “I doubt you will betray your beloved mentor Obi-wan, so there is no point in even trying to get any mission details or secrets from you.”  
“Correct,” smiled Anakin.  
“Then the only thing left to do with you is to test your mettle. Are you really the hero that everyone thinks you are, or are you simply a young man with an overinflated sense of his own importance?”  
“And how would you find that out?” asked Anakin innocently, not sure he wanted to know the answer.  
“By testing you in battle. Trial by combat with my dark Jedi recruits,” sneered Dooku. Gesturing towards the door, it opened and two CLONE troops walked in, smartly saluting the former Jedi. “Well Anakin, we will soon see what you are truly made of. Take him to the cells.”  
Nonplussed, Anakin allowed himself to be led away. There was nothing more to be said. Dooku had tried to seduce him over to the dark side; his offer was reasonable enough, but Anakin knew that one had to be careful where the Sith were concerned. How could he be certain that Dooku wanted to destroy the supposed Sith Lord hiding in Coruscant? It could be a ruse to murder him. After all, Obi-wan and the Council put no faith in the words of the old man and neither should he.  
Thrown in another nondescript room, Anakin remained there for hours with no conception of what Dooku had planned for him. Trail by combat sounded quaintly old-fashioned but he knew he should not underestimate the old Jedi’s wiliness. He was certain that he would be put to a disadvantage on purpose; perhaps they would allow him his lightsaber, perhaps they would not and given him in an old rusty sword in its stead. Worst of all he would be reduced to hand-to-hand combat; he was competent but not well practised. Easing himself up from the floor he put himself through the series of exercises taught to him at the Temple for preparation in combat, to take his mind away from his anxiety as well as force his aching muscles and limbs into readiness.  
Finally, the door to his cell opened and two CLONE troops motioned him to follow them. Obeying, Anakin was led down a nondescript corridor into the bowels of the building. He could sense aggression coming from somewhere, the same feeling he had picked up from Brynx. No matter how much Dooku tried to dress up his Sith teachings in a desire for peace and justice, the desire for conflict seemed to be at the heart of his real agenda. Eventually the guards stopped outside a door and pressed the control panel to its left side. The door slid open and the two guards, grabbing hold of Anakin, pushed him roughly inside.  
“Hey,” complained the young Jedi, as he fell heavily to the floor. “I’m hardly going to escape am I?”  
There was complete silence from the two guards and the door slid shut behind them.  
Picking himself up, Anakin took quick stock of his surroundings. He had been taken to what appeared to be a former gymnasium. The wooden floor was marked out in familiar white lines and rows of tiered seats filled the far side of the room from where he had entered. Above those seats was a balcony with a small seating area behind it. Currently both seats and balcony were empty.  
“Welcome Anakin,” said a booming voice, which could only be Dooku’s; and it was not long until the elderly Sith himself appeared on the balcony. “This is to be your combat arena.”  
“Excellent,” said Anakin with false bonhomie, “am I to be given any weapons?”  
“Of course,” said Dooku, his yellow teeth bared in a grin, “however I should warn you that I have troops posted outside all of the exits and if you try to escape they have been instructed to kill you on sight.”  
“Don’t worry,” Anakin called up to him, “I have no plans to escape. I’m looking forward to seeing what you can throw at me.”  
“Ah, such a confident young man to the last,” sighed Dooku, thinking it was a real pity that he had failed to turn the young man to the dark side. He would have been a real asset to his plans. “So be it, you have chosen your fate.” Unhooking Anakin’s lightsaber from where he had attached it to his belt, Dooku threw the weapon down into the arena.  
At the same time, a door opened to the left of Anakin admitting a snarling young woman who, lightsaber aloft, came charging at him with terrible ferocity. Throwing himself to the ground, Anakin rolled out of her way, ending up conveniently close to his lightsaber. Throwing his hand out, he willed the weapon to come to him; obediently it rose into the air and he caught it deftly. Just in time as the woman had changed her course again and was coming straight for him, yelling incomprehensibly as she did so. Anakin was reminded of the Sith he had met in the jungle but this Sith warrior or whatever she was turned out to be a clumsy fighter, led by anger rather than with any real skill. Anakin easily defeated her, sending her lightsaber spinning away from her hand until it came to rest beneath the empty seats.  
“Do you surrender?” he asked the young woman, holding his lightsaber to her throat.  
“Never!” she yelled, flinging herself so suddenly at him that Anakin had no time to remove his lightsaber; she died, impaled on its blue blade.  
Frustrated, Anakin turned the blade off, only to hear the door opening again as another warrior was admitted into the room. This time it was a Twilek male, again driven by anger and aggression that Anakin could feel emanating out from him in waves. This opponent was more challenging, facing Anakin with a double-edged lightsaber that wove and twisted through the air with remarkable grace. However, as before Anakin vanquished his opponent with his more comprehensive set of skills and calm attitude to battle; similarly the Twilek refused to surrender and impaled himself on his own lightsaber. It was truly a fight to the death, in more ways than one. Just as Anakin felt able to recover from one battle, the door would open again to admit a fresh opponent. He could feel himself getting exhausted; after facing four warriors he was suffering wounds on his arm, leg and side where the red lightsabers had dealt him a glancing blow. Added to the bruises and cuts sustained against the CLONE army, and dehydration from lack of food and water, he knew that he had to summon every last ounce of energy he had to stay in control. He knew also that Dooku was saving the best until last; the four warriors he had already faced were increasing in skills and ability each time. The fifth warrior, another young woman, her pretty face scarred and disfigured by battle scars, tested his skills to the limit. Graceful and flowing in her movements, she used her body as a weapon, kicking Anakin hard in the stomach at one point before flipping away to the opposite side of the gymnasium to build up energy for her next assault. It reignited all Anakin’s earlier aches and pains and his head grew woozy with the effort of staying on his feet. Come on, he willed himself severely, knowing that if he gave in he would face certain death. Rallying his strength he managed to catch the young Sith with his lightsaber as she came at him, penetrating into her side and causing her to gasp out in pain. Seeing an opportunity, Anakin swiped at the lightsaber in her hand, knocking it onto the floor and kicking her hard in the chest to force her to capitulate.   
Panting heavily, the young woman fell to the ground, gazing up balefully at the young Jedi.  
“You will not win,” she gasped, clutching at her side in obvious pain. “Dooku has many things planned for you.”  
“You think Dooku is on your side?” scoffed Anakin, watching her warily, he could sense that she was planning to make a move. “He doesn't care if you die, he is testing you to see which is the strongest!”  
“I’d rather die fighting,” she spat, the pain in her eyes growing stronger. He knew than she was dying. “We are not so different, you and I. I feel the excitement you get from combat, the heat rising in your head, the energy it gives you. A Jedi should not crave these things but you do!”  
“No,” said Anakin vehemently, but already he felt the anger rising within him at her words. How dare she compare him to a Sith! “You are mistaken.”  
“Am I? Then why haven’t you killed me,” she cried as her life ebbed from her, “I know you want to! Go on, kill me now!”  
It was too easy. Stepping away, Anakin kicked her lightsaber towards her. “No, if you want to die fighting then that is how it must be.”  
Hauling herself to her feet, the young woman watched Anakin warily as she picked up her lightsaber and ignited it. “I was a slave like you,” she said as they circled each other, waiting for the other to make the first move, “Dooku rescued me, he told me I could be a great warrior, that I had a special gift.”  
A sudden rush of images came into his head, the pain and suffering she had felt, the relief to be freed and to be given a purpose. It was so akin to his own experience that he reeled from the vision; exactly as the young woman had planned it. Admitting a blood curdling scream, she came at Anakin swiftly, twirling her lightsaber above her head, intent on removing his. But Anakin was still too quick for her and he met her lightsaber as it came flashing down, pushing her back with all his strength. Exhausted and in pain, the Sith recruit realised that she could not hope to destroy the Chosen One as she had hoped and with a final cry, running forward she impaled herself on Anakin’s lightsaber, her yellow eyes fixed on his as the life finally left her body and she fell to the ground, an empty shell.  
Defeated, Anakin turned off his weapon. His whole body hurt but mentally the fight was beginning to take its toll. The dark voices within him were battling for dominance and growing exhaustion was making it harder for him to ignore them. His leg was bleeding profusely now, staining his pants and he could feel the blood running down his arm from a fresh cut. Quickly, he stripped spare cloth from his tunic and patched his two wounds up as best he could. It was a moment before he realised that he could hear the sound of clapping. Looking up, he saw Dooku was standing on the balcony; with all the commotion in the arena he had forgotten he was there.  
“Splendid, Anakin, splendid,” said Dooku warmly, “you clearly are one of the strongest Jedi that I have ever witnessed. My poor little army is quite diminished I am ashamed to say, I have rather underestimated their ability against the Chosen One. Well never mind, there is still one left for you to vanquish, my most promising student, like you trained as a Jedi.”  
It had to be Brynx. Finishing off his makeshift bandage, Anakin reignited his lightsaber, physically and mentally willing himself to have enough energy left to face this final challenge.  
There was an agonising wait before the door opened again and Brynx entered the room. But he was not alone; there was another with him, the one known as Trammel. So Dooku had lied to him.  
“Expecting one were you?” snarled Brynx, obviously seeing the consternation on Anakin’s features.  
The young Jedi realised his feelings had betrayed him so he covered it with bluster, “The more the merrier, I like a challenge.”  
“Well you’ll get a challenge from us,” laughed Trammel, igniting his own, double-bladed lightsaber.  
It was to be the hardest fight Anakin had faced that day, the two dark Jedi who had already captured him once (although as Anakin told himself he had also been fighting CLONE troops in a confined space at the time). Brynx clearly had been looking forward to facing Anakin ever since their incompatible natures had surfaced in the Temple, and Trammel… well whilst he had not been trained as a Jedi, he more than matched Anakin in brute strength and agility. They were relentless, pushing Anakin harder than he had ever been pushed before, the sheer strength of the dark Force goading them onwards, encouraging them to acts of brutality that a Jedi would never submit to. Anakin knew that he somehow had to harness both sides of his connection to the Force in this fight, it was not enough to defend himself, he needed to fight and to win. As he parried, dodged and tackled his two opponents he did all he could to allow the Force to flow through him; he could feel it, heavy in the air around him, guiding his limbs as though he were an automaton, allowing it to suggest his next moves, to perceive how the two warriors he faced were anticipating their own moves. Allowing the Force to dictate his movements, Anakin felt himself falling into a trance; he was aware of what was happening around him but he was also aware of what was about to happen, he could see the ghostly shapes of his adversaries as they were to be enabling him to dodge their attacks or take a new, unexpected course. It did not always work, the Force as he knew was erratic in its predictions; after one such wrong move, Anakin was brought painfully back into the reality of the moment as Brynx’s blade caught his leg with such brutality he could feel it slicing through the flesh and against the bone. Crying out with the sheer pain, Anakin fell to the ground momentarily, rolling away from the two adversaries as they sought to make good on their advantage.  
“Not so fearless now,” crowed Brynx, but he too was panting from the pain of wounds and exertion of battle.  
“Let’s finish him off,” urged Trammel, bleeding from multiple cuts to his arm and head, his energy too dissipated from the tension and ferocity of the fight.  
Having lost his lightsaber as he fell, Anakin knew he was in trouble. Unable to find the energy to pick himself up off the floor, it was not long until the two dark Jedi surrounded him, their lightsabers ready to make the final kill. His heart was beating loudly in his ears and he could barely hear what they were saying to him.  
“This should make us heroes,” Brynx was saying to Trammel, “Dooku will reward us well for defeating the Chosen One.”  
Time itself seemed to slow down; Anakin could see the blades flashing down towards him, towards his throat but in that instance it gave him a way out. Flinging out his hand, with all his might he willed his lightsaber to come towards him. In a flash, something cold and metal was nestled in his hand; igniting the sword he following his instinct, leaping up towards the two dark Jedi with all the strength he could muster, swinging the blade low and long towards their stomachs. With satisfaction he saw the blade enter into Brynx, slicing him in half before he could even utter a cry, his body collapsing onto the bloodied floor of the gymnasium. Trammel had no time to wonder at the speed of Anakin’s movements for he, raising his own lightsaber in surprise, soon found himself without a head. For a moment his headless body stood stupefied before it too crashed to the ground next to his dead colleague.  
Overcome with the effort it had taken, Anakin collapsed to the ground his senses reeling, tiny pinpricks of light blurring his vision. Looking up he could see Dooku’s face through the haze; oddly his expression was one of concern as he communicated rapidly to a figure next to him. It was the last thing that Anakin saw before he blacked out.

'Anakin, Anakin?'  
He heard voices calling his name through the mist but he could not see anybody; he was running from some nameless horror, he could sense it in the air all around him, a power that he had unwittingly unleashed. It was calling to him, it wanted him, to make him its slave. But he would resist it.  
'Anakin, Anakin!'

“Do you have a report for me, Commander?”  
Obi-wan stood in the holding bay of the Republic cruiser, watching as the last remnants of the CLONE army were loaded onto the ships to take them back to Coruscant. It had been a difficult fight on Kessel; he was exhausted, his men were exhausted, and the less said about Anakin the better. Obi-wan could not countenance the horror that had befallen his friend. His forces had managed to meet up with Anakin's army as planned, only with the news that Anakin had been captured by two unknown Jedi. Fortunately, Anakin’s tracking device had led them to the converted atmosphere factory that Dooku had commandeered where they had found no sigh of Dooku but a scene of carnage. Obi-wan would never forget stepping into the gymnasium, the smell of blood forcing him to vomit copiously, the horror of the remains littered across the bloodied floor. And in the middle of the carnage lay Anakin, unconscious, his face dirty, his clothes bloodied and torn. Obi-wan first assumed the worst, thinking he was dead. He would never forget that moment of agonised concern, as un-Jedi-like as could be, that he had lost his friend. However, upon running over to cradle Anakin’s body in his arms, he felt a whisper of life which gave him hope.  
Since then, Anakin had remained on life support in the flagship, his mind in limbo. Obi-wan rationalised that his body must have shut down in response to the extreme situation he had been put through. Although they could not possibly know what had happened until the young man awoke, piecing together the evidence suggested that Anakin had been forced to fight, and kill, seven warriors armed with Sith-type lightsabers. Whether they were Sith, Obi-wan did not know, but he had collected their weapons as evidence. Fortunately, they had also found Anakin’s lightsaber, hidden under the seats running alongside the gymnasium. They also found evidence that Dooku had been on Kessel; there were hologram projectors and remains of holopads and flimplasts which had clearly been destroyed by the Count before he left Kessel. It was a disappointment to know Dooku had escaped once again, but Obi-wan knew that without Anakin’s assistance he could not have faced the Sith Lord with much confidence.  
It had taken another month to subdue the CLONE forces on Kessel, but they were finally routed and the military regime were able to resume complete control of the planet. It was, Obi-wan reflected, a hollow victory in his mind. Although a member of the Republic, Kessel’s harsh regime and poor living conditions scarcely lived up to the ideals of liberty and peace extolled by the Senate. He did not feel right leaving its people to the mercy of their repressive leaders. Without Anakin to relieve the tedium of campaigning, Obi-wan had also come to realise how much he relied on his friend. In some respects it was a difficult situation for the older Jedi to come to terms with; after all the Jedi Code practised that it was wrong to have any attachments. Yet in Anakin he had found more than a friend, they were almost brothers so close they had grown.  
“That’s the last of the transports, General Kenobi. We’re ready to go when you are.”  
“Right-o.” Obi-wan was pulled back sharply into reality by the words of the Commander. “Let’s get back to Coruscant.” It was a relief to be able to return home, after the difficulties they had faced on Kessel Obi-wan knew that he, and especially Anakin, were in dire need of some rest and recuperation.

“Anakin?”  
“Is that you Obi-wan?” Anakin was still having problems opening his eyes and his body seemed to be floating off the ground. As reality around him gradually registered, he saw that he was in a white room, tubes surrounding him and the soft bleeps of machines. In his befuddled state he became confused, “Where am I?”  
“You’re in the medi-centre on Coruscant,” said Obi-wan softly. The clinician droids had told him that Anakin had required such high levels of medication to counter the pain levels he was experiencing, the young man was bound to appear confused and disorientated. He stood by Anakin’s cot, looking sadly at the state his friend was in; tubes seem to be stuck into every part of his body, delivering essential medicine, painkillers and nutrition. Dressed in the thin gown given to patients, it was possible to see the countless cuts and lightsaber burns that covered most of the young man’s body, although his worst wound on his leg was hidden from view by bacta pads. But from what the droids had told him, Obi-wan knew that Anakin was lucky to be alive; the savage cut had gone all the way down into the bone and was infected. The Jedi’s metal arm was also damaged, seared by lightsaber blades to a dull black.  
“How are you feeling?” asked Obi-wan conversationally.  
“Like I’ve been wrestling with a Wookie,” Anakin said woozily. Turning his head to see his companion, the tube stuck up into his nostrils did not make talking easy but he was determined, as always, to find out what was happening in his absence. “My body doesn’t quite belong to me at the moment.”  
“You’re lucky to be alive.”  
“I appreciate that,” Anakin managed a brief smile. “How did I get here? The last I knew I was on Kessel.”  
“Yes, well we defeated the CLONE you will be glad to know,” said Obi-wan briskly, “and we rescued you from Dooku.”  
“Did you find Dooku?” His last memory resurfaced, seeing the tall elderly Sith above him, his face locked in consternation as Anakin defeated the last of his dark Jedi army.  
“No, he’d fled the planet by the time we got to you,” explained Obi-wan, “which was fortunate because I would not have enjoyed taking him on with you lying unconscious. Do you remember what happened?”  
Anakin thought back to events on Kessel; he remembered bits and pieces, “We were ambushed by the CLONE, I think I was captured. Dooku tried to win me over to his side and when I refused he made me fight, trial by combat he called it.”  
“His dark Jedi army?” asked Obi-wan. Seeing Anakin’s slight nod, he went on, “we found the remains of seven of them in the gymnasium where we found you. I assume you killed them all?”  
“I didn’t want to kill them,” murmured Anakin, remembering, “but they fought to the death. Dooku was watching them.”  
It sounded like to Obi-wan that Dooku had been auditioning his recruits, seeing how they fared against the Chosen One. “Well it backfired on Dooku, now he can’t have many recruits left.”  
“Most of them were badly trained,” said Anakin, “only two had been turned from Jedi. Do you remember Brynx?”  
“Yes, that arrogant young man.” Brynx had mysteriously disappeared from the Temple after his first mission as a Jedi Knight. “He did seem rather susceptible to someone like Dooku.”  
“Dooku told me about the Sith on Coruscant,” added Anakin, keen to tell Obi-wan everything he knew as soon as it entered his head, “well not much more than there is a Sith and it is a male.”  
“This will be bad news for the Council,” remarked Obi-wan, wiping his brow, “the Evangelicals are refusing to support any investigations into this matter, believing that it is one of Dooku’s lies. But he has said it enough times now to make me think that he is telling the truth in this instance.”  
“I agree.” Anakin shifted in his cot and told Obi-wan how Dooku had tried to seduce him to the Dark side by laying out his plans to defeat the Sith and bring peace to the Galaxy. “It might be that Dooku is driven by the need to destroy this Sith.”  
“If so then he is going about it in a very peculiar manner,” coughed Obi-wan, feeling under the weather himself after their intense campaigning of recent months. “Anyway, Anakin, I have excited you far too much, you should be resting. You can tell me more about Kessel when you are feeling well enough.”  
“I feel fine,” insisted the young man.  
“That’s only because you are doped up to the eyeballs,” laughed Obi-wan, glad to see that Anakin’s spirit was not diminished by the events that had happened to him. “But seriously, get some rest, Anakin. You are healthy and strong but your body has been through the mill of late, it will not do you any good to rush your recovery.”  
“How bad is it?”  
“You have sustained extensive wounds to your leg, which have become infected,” replied Obi-wan, reading from the chart affixed to the side of the crib. “Several of your ribs have been broken, your shoulder ligaments are torn, your mechanical arm has stopped functioning and you have severe burns and bruising across your back, stomach and face.”  
“I see,” cocooned in his medicated world, Anakin could barely fathom that he had survived at all.  
“It seems that your mind shut itself down in order to conserve itself,” explained Obi-wan, “you have been in a coma for almost four weeks.”  
“Four weeks?” It seemed a part of his life was gone forever.  
“But you’re alive, that’s the main thing. There was a time when we thought we’d lost you.” Obi-wan heaved a sigh, “Anyway, I must go and leave you in peace. Now that you’re awake I am sure the clinicians will want to start your process of rehabilitation.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“It means that they will make you do lots of tests, mental and physical,” grinned Obi-wan, knowing Anakin’s aversion to such things. “I have already warned them that you will be a difficult patient.”  
“Thank you,” said Anakin, “remind me to return the favour some other time.” But he smiled at his friend, “thank you for coming to see me, I’m glad you’re the first person I saw when I woke up.”  
“I wanted to see that you were still alive,” replied the older Jedi, “after all, Dooku and Grievous are still out there and we need you back as soon as possible. Well, I’ll drop by again soon.”  
“Don’t leave it too long, I don’t want to get bored!” He watched his friend as he left the room. Lying on his back, unable to move, there was very little he could do except think or sleep. Looking up at the ceiling he noticed that there was a vid-screen built into it which would give him some relief from the tedium of waiting to get better.  
Once it became established that Anakin was out of his coma, a series of visitors also dropped in. However, besides Obi-wan there was only one person he really wanted to see; Senator Amidala. She eventually came to the medi-centre two days after his operation to remove the infected muscle and bone from his leg and replace it with a metal substitute. The surgeons had done all they could to try and save his organic structure but as they told the young Jedi, the lightsaber’s cut had been too damaging to save much. Anakin had taken the news within his stride, indeed he had even joked with the nurses that he was being turned into a machine. For Padmé, it was a greater shock; she had not been aware of quite how wounded he had been and she wished she had come to see him sooner.  
“I don’t think you would have liked it,” said Anakin cheerfully, now able to sit up in his bed although still being fed and medicated by masses of tubes. “I looked a mess, you would have been appalled.”  
“Obi-wan told me that you fought seven dark Jedi,” she said in amazement, “I’m surprised there is anything of you left!”  
“Me too,” smiled the young man, feeling much better now he had seen his love. Although she was trussed up in the fancy clothing of a Senator, her beauty shone through and he felt his heart relaxing. “The Force saved me,” he said plainly, squeezing her hand, “it wanted me to come back.”  
Although Padmé struggled with the Jedi’s belief in a higher Force dictating their actions, for once she was inclined to believe that there was something magical about Anakin’s survival. The amount of damage he had sustained, as Obi-wan had told her, was enough to kill a Jedi, even one strong in the Force. Yet Anakin has sustained far more than any mortal. “How is your leg?” she asked, returning to his welfare, “The nurse said you had to have it replaced with metal?”  
“Yeah it got infected,” said Anakin causally, bored with talking about his wounds. “It’s fine, really, I can’t feel a thing. So what’s been happening here?”  
Padmé laughed at his determination to turn the conversation away from the very things she was concerned about, “The usual; lots of meetings, social functions, worrying about you…”  
“You shouldn’t worry about me,” said Anakin tenderly, wishing he could take her into his arms but knowing it would dislodge all the medical equipment and send the nurses scurrying in. So he settled for holding her hand. “That’s my job.”  
“What, to worry about you?” replied the young woman cheekily, “now we know that’s something you never do!”  
“No, because I wouldn’t get half as much done if I started worrying about my own safety,” laughed the Jedi, drawing her closer to the bed. “Now, why don’t you give me a quick kiss before this next round of medication kicks in and I become too dopey to enjoy it.”  
Realising the time, Padmé also had to leave for another committee meeting so she leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the lips. “Keep well, Anakin, I’ll try and see you again.”  
Reaching out with his flesh hand, he touched her face gently, “I’d like that.” As she left the room, with one last glance of her beautiful eyes, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply, hoping that the face of the Senator would be haunting his dreams and not other, more horrific memories.


	8. Stranded on Coruscant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confined to Coruscant for rest and recovery, Anakin tries to get used to spending more time in the Jedi Temple, where he becomes caught up in the conflict between the Jedi who support their role in the war, and those who don't. His friendship with Palpatine also brings him into contact with those who are against the strategy of the High Command and the Jedi. But his promotion to General gives him something to celebrate.

The need for a long and careful recovery kept Anakin on Coruscant for months. At first he was confined to the medi-centre and then, when eventually he could start to walk on his new leg, he was transferred to the Jedi Temple but kept on medication as his wounds continued to heal. Being back in the Temple was a benefit to the young man; finally he was able to meditate properly using the resources at the Jedi’s disposal and could start the process of healing his mind after the horrors of Kessel. The memories had come back with full force as he recovered, giving him sleepless nights and continual reminders of Dooku’s face leering down on him. Although he had spoken about the trauma with Obi-wan and, to a lesser extent with Padmé, it continued to haunt him, not just the visual images but the feelings. Whilst Obi-wan was on Coruscant he helped Anakin all he could to focus his mind, however in his absence Anakin began to realise just how much he relied on his friendship with his former Master. Although he knew many of the Jedi in the Temple he was not as close to them as he was with Obi-wan, and he began to miss their easy banter, predicated (although Obi-wan would not admit it) on a similar sense of humour. It was difficult to see Padmé too; confined to the Temple on a daily basis for physiotherapy, exercises and meditation, getting used to his new leg prevented him from sneaking away to her apartment and neither of them wanted to run the risk of being caught out. He had to content himself with snatched conversations on the Temple’s vidscreen late at night when he knew there would be no interruptions. It did not help his sense of loneliness, and as far as he could he sought to make new friendships amongst the Jedi who seemed to spend their whole lives in the Temple.  
One morning, a message came to Anakin as he was preparing for his exercises to attend the Jedi Council. Ever since he had returned to Coruscant he had had sporadic visits from Mace Windu and Ki adi mundi, the two Council members whose strategy was most similar to Obi-wan’s and his own; however this was the first time he had been called before the entire Council. Eschewing his habitual casual jerkin, he dressed in his full Jedi uniform and grabbed his crutches before making his way slowly to the Council meeting chamber. Even so, it was a while before he was admitted and the tension in the chamber suggested that prior to his arrival, there had been an intense debate.  
“Good morning Anakin.” As ever it was Mace Windu, nominal head of the Council, who spoke first. “We are glad to see you looking well, although I take it from those crutches you are still not fully recovered?”  
“No, Master,” said Anakin, quickly registering that as well as Mace Windu and Ki adi Mundi, the only other three Jedi present in the chamber were Evangelicals. That could make things tricky. “It is taking time to adapt to my new leg, unfortunately metal replacements are not as supple as an organic leg.”  
“We realise that you are incredibly fortunate to be alive,” continued Ki ali Mundi, “Obi-wan has told us of your extreme bravery in facing Dooku’s Dark Jedi-”  
“Or extreme foolishness,” cut in one of the Evangelicals, Jedi Master Eeth Koth.  
“I had little choice in the matter,” replied Anakin assertively, “Dooku made it clear that I was to either join him in his campaign against the Sith on Coruscant or face trial by combat. It was not a difficult choice, believe me Master.”  
“We only have your word for this, Skywalker.” It seemed that Koth was sceptical about the veracity of Anakin’s story.  
“And the evidence provided by Obi-wan,” interjected Mace Windu; prior to Anakin’s entrance, as the young Jedi had suspected, the few members of the Jedi Council had been locked in an intense debate about the young man now stood in front of them. “Anyway, we are not here to debate specifics. Anakin, we have called you before us because the Chancellor and Army High Command has recommended that as a reward for your bravery you be promoted to the rank of General and given one of the highest honours within the Republic, the Galaxy Merit. The Council wishes to give its approval to this motion.” He did not mention it had only been the result of a long debate, the Evangelicals claiming that it would give out the wrong message, that the Jedi can only aspire to greatness through conflict and the shedding of blood.  
“I am greatly honoured,” said Anakin eventually, for once overwhelmed by unexpected news. “I did not expect any reward for my actions, as I said I was given very little choice in the matter.”  
“Were these so-called Dark Jedi you faced former Jedi from this Temple?” asked Koth; despite his difficulty with accepting the worldliness of Jedi like Anakin Skywalker, he was genuinely interested in this new threat from Dooku. There had been a spate of disappearances by some of the younger Jedi and for those seeking to increase their power within the Order, getting to the bottom of why the Dark side was so seductive was a keen priority.  
“Only two of the recruits I faced were former Jedi I recognised,” replied Anakin, trying to remember their names, “Brynx and a young woman, Phebe, who I trained with when I first came to the Temple. The other recruits were possibly Force sensitives who had been trained in rudimental Jedi techniques by Dooku with an emphasis on using their anger in combat.” He was simply regurgitating what Obi-wan had suggested after he had described to him, at length, the techniques used by the warriors he had faced.  
“It is worrying that Dooku has managed to corrupt even a few Jedi from the Temple,” mused Windu; after the two that had been instrumental in the death of Siri Tachi, and several others who had been encountered across the Galaxy, this added the total of defecting Jedi to eight. “Dooku obviously has a talent for detecting Force sensitivity and given time his training methods could yield results. We must step up the campaign to find and detain him before we are facing an army of fanatics.”  
There was an uncomfortable silence; obviously this was another point of disagreement amongst the Jedi Masters present and Anakin felt it keenly.  
“Obi-wan also informed us that Dooku reiterated his claims that there is a Sith Lord on Coruscant,” said Ki ali Mundi.  
“Yes Master,” said Anakin, “he suggested to me that he wished to defeat this Sith and intimated that should I help him. He would, in exchange, give me powers beyond my imaginings.”  
“Dooku is no different to any Sith,” sighed Master Koth; despite his aversion to the Jedi becoming involved in the affairs of the Republic, he was not so insensitive as to realise the danger posed by Dooku. “They will destroy each other in time.”  
“But how much time?” said Windu, “we do not have time to sit back and let the Sith battle it out between them. Both are causing real danger to the Republic’s survival and we must seek them out and confront them before it is too late.” Turning back to Anakin, he smiled grimly at the young man. “Anyway, we should not let our troubles distract us from Anakin’s moment of glory. We will inform the Chancellor’s office of our acceptance of this honour, well done Anakin.”  
There was a short round of applause from the Jedi Masters present and Anakin bowed gracefully. It was enough to have the acceptance of the Jedi Council, let alone have the honours heaped upon him by the Chancellor and High Command. He was to be a General, a title only so far given to Jedi Masters who sat on the Council. If his success continued, what might come next?

The peace of the Jedi Temple was welcome to Anakin after the frenetic few days he had experienced following the award of his promotion and honour. A public event at the Grand City Hall had been arranged where Anakin was given his medal personally by the Chancellor and Admiral Organa, afterwards saluted by all members of the Elite Squadron present on Coruscant and several battalions of the Republic’s Army, and watched by the City’s great and good, including the Jedi Council, senators, local councillors, powerful merchants, high society members and the press. It had been an opportunity for Anakin to give an honest, impassioned speech about the importance of supporting the Republic against the threat of the CLONE, that his real honour was not receiving the fancy medal but being able to assist in the continuing survival of a democratic Republic that could bring real peace and freedom to the many species of the Galaxy. Many of those assembled had been moved by his speech, including, so he said, Chancellor Palpatine. The public event was followed by a round of social functions, meet and greets, and interviews with the various news outlets that left the young man - still recovering from his recent traumas - exhausted and glad to get back to the relative stillness and sanctity of the Jedi Temple.  
Ensconced in the meditation chamber, Anakin left his mind drift upon the currents of the Force he felt around him. For once he felt utterly calm, as though the cares and tribulations of the war were slipping away from him. It was as though he was bathed in healing light; it penetrated and slipped through his body, taking away the pain in his limbs, soothing the broken and bruised skin. Just as he was enjoying the sensation, another familiar feeling distracted his attention. Someone he knew well was approaching, someone he had not seen in a long time.  
There was a quiet knock at the door and Anakin opened his eyes. “Come in.”  
The door opened and Obi-wan stepped in, “I hope I am not disturbing you?”  
"Obi wan! Am I glad to see you!" Anakin climbed up from the floor cushion to embrace his friend, ”When did you get back?"  
"An hour ago," replied the older Jedi, clapping him gently on the back. "How are you feeling?" Studying his friend's face for a moment he added, “You certainly look much better than when I left you."  
"Yes, I'm feeling much better. My leg still needs some more work until its fully functioning and I need to have a few tweaks made to my arm but apart from that, I'm good to go. Resting has helped."  
“I never thought I’d hear you say that," laughed Obi-wan, knowing that enforced rest was anathema to someone with Anakin's active and restless disposition.  
“I can’t believe I said it either" said Anakin with a smile. "But I wouldn't have been very effective campaigning from a hospital bed.”  
“Yes, I heard about your promotion, Anakin, that’s wonderful news,” said Obi-wan brightly, “I am only sad I missed the ceremony-“  
“No you’re not,” teased Anakin, picking up his tunic from where it lay discarded on the floor; “you hate that kind of thing, and it did go on and on. You would have only been bored to tears.”  
“But I heard you made a very moving speech,” went on Obi-wan to Anakin’s embarrassment, “Master Windu was impressed by your sincerity.”  
“It was nothing,” said Anakin dismissively, getting dressed as quickly as he could. “Anyway, I take it this is not just a social call. Did you want to get in some combat practice, I could do with a stronger opponent. The Jedi left in the Temple are alright but they’re not as practised in the real arts of fighting, they’re all very staid and formal-“  
“Alright, alright, Anakin,” Obi-wan threw his hands up at the stream of consciousness emanating from his friend’s mouth, “there will be time for that later, yes. But the reason I came to find you was to ask you if you think you are well enough to get back into the field? The Council have been sent the strategy for the Ryloth campaign and we need some help with the planning as it’s a very delicate situation.”  
“Excellent, I’d be pleased to help.” Anakin knew that unlike others, Obi-wan would not treat him with misplaced concern as though he were fragile and delicate.   
As they headed towards the strategy room, Anakin asked Obi-wan about his own exploits, eager to hear about what he had been up to in his absence. Obi-wan had just finished outlining the outcome of his recent success in Anx Minor when coming the other way down the corridor, the two Jedi saw a familiar face.  
Pitarwa’s dark eyes opened wide when she saw who it was. Under the careful tutelage of Shaak Ti, the Jedi who had adopted her after the sad loss of Alayhan, Pitarwa had grown into a graceful and courageous Jedi. However she always maintained that it had been Anakin’s friendship that had been the turning point in her career as a Jedi and as always she embraced him warmly. “It’s so good to see you, and you too, Master Kenobi.”  
“You’re looking well,” Anakin smiled broadly, always pleased to see her. No longer a thin, frightened child she was now a confident young woman, who carried herself with quiet authority.   
“You too,” said Pitarwa, looking ruefully at the crutches he still used whilst his leg was healing. “After what happened on Kessel… well it’s good to see you alive.”  
“And you have been away?” asked Obi-wan politely, knowing that they had a schedule to meet and not wanting to get into lengthy explanations.  
However Pitarwa seemed to sense his concern, “Yes, I have been in the Outer Rim for several months, I am about to go back after a short recuperation.” She drew up the sleeve to her tunic, revealing her heavily bandaged arm. “I have been in the wars as well.”  
“We’ll have to catch up,” said Anakin, glancing over to Obi-wan, “I’m afraid we are in a bit of a hurry to meet with the Council.”  
“Don’t let me hinder you,” she replied, shooing them away, “but we’ll definitely have to meet later. Shall I drop by your quarters this evening?”  
“Sure.” As they left her, Anakin could not help but glance behind him to see her again, saying to Obi-wan, “She has changed so much.”  
“Yes, rather like a young man I know,” smiled Obi-wan fondly, “it does make us Masters feel rather proud.”

Watching the Holonet was the only way in which Padmé could keep track of Anakin’s movements, and her devotion to any news from the Outer Rim had become a concern amongst her handmaidens. They were worried about her emotional state which was already strained by the tension and division in the Senate. Fortunately for them, most of the news concerning Anakin was positive. Side by side with Obi-wan Kenobi, on the many moons of Ryloth he and the Republic army had successfully routed Grievous’ forces, delivering such a crushing blow they would have been awarded with the highest medal of honour the Rylothians possessed had they not been called away almost immediately to Arakhan, where their daring and courage against the CLONE fleet convinced the citizens of that system that they had two immortals in their midst rather than humans. Yet despite the successes, despite the valiant struggles by the Republic armies, the CLONE continued to harass the Galaxy with their seemingly endless supply of resources. Try as the Jedi and the Republic might they could not bring its leaders to account or identify its main base of operations, which still remained elusive. The flames of war were extinguished in one spot only for another system to be engulfed. This was not helping matters in the Senate, with many Senators becoming increasingly vocal against the apparent inability of the High Command to steer the war in the Republic’s favour. Calls were made for Admiral Organa to step down, but he was weathering the storm with the support of the Jedi and the Chancellor.

Back on Coruscant to recover from his last bout of campaigning - whilst as not as intense as Kessel had been long and arduous - Anakin was not pleased to hear about the continuing tension in the Senate. He believed that the Republic should be united against the war, not racked with division and arguments over the smallest detail of strategy. Furthermore, his adoption by Palpatine as his unofficial spokesperson with the Jedi ensured that he was called upon to attend Senate committees, meetings with the Council and strategy meetings with the High Command, which took up much of his time. However, he maintained his cheerful demeanour which served to hide some of the tension he was under from those who were less close to him. Those close to him however knew better. Especially Padmé who had barely seen Anakin in months knew that the war had changed him - even more, it had made him. Away from the battlefield she could tell he was restless, without purpose. He had found where he was needed in an arena in which he could excel. But she could not help thinking it came at a personal cost. For what would he do once the war was over? Would he be content to maintain the peace, such was the role that the Jedi had held for thousands of years? And the war had to end, it was a belief that Padmé clung to tenaciously, unwilling to see any more changes that were detrimental to the democratic function of the republic. Still, like Anakin, she kept her worries hidden beneath a calm, self-possessed demeanour.  
It was one rare evening that Anakin and Padmé found time to spend it together. It had not been an easy day for either of them. Padmé had spent the day in meetings trying to thrash out an acceptable alternative to the Chancellor's latest plan to install regional governors, and Anakin had spent the day in combat training with Obi-wan and Mace Windu, being put through his paces in line for their next campaign to Bakura. It was enough to spend some quiet time in each other's company.   
Going over to the couch where he sat, she leaned over, placing her arms about his neck. "It's getting late."  
“Are you trying to get rid of me?" he grinned, looking up into her eyes.  
"No, I was hoping you might stay the night." Feeling the tension in his shoulders, she started to massage them, feeling the knots that had built up and using her fingers to try to unravel them. “What are you thinking?”  
He sighed and, taking her hand, drew her round to sit beside him on the couch. "How fleeting our time is together."  
“I know, I see more of you on the Holonet than I do in the flesh,” said Padmé wistfully; despite knowing from the beginning of their relationship it would always be this way, it did not make it any easier to bear.  
He laughed, “Well I spend more time with Obi-wan than anyone else in this Galaxy, how do you think that makes me feel?” Suddenly sombre, he drew her close to him so that she was nestled within his arms. “You know that I will always love you, don’t you.”  
“Yes.” She wondered what had brought on this sudden declaration.  
“And there will never be any one else but you,” he went on, looking shyly into her eyes. “I wanted to make that clear, just in case anything happens to me. After Kessel, I knew that I had to tell you this, in case I-”  
Trembling, Padmé placed her fingers upon his lips, “Don’t say it, Anakin, please. I know it might happen but… I want to have hope.”  
She was close enough now that he could see a piece of leather poking out from the neckline of her dress. “What’s that?” he asked, taking it in his fingers and gently pulling it out. The leather was a thin necklace, attached to a smoky blue amulet, inexpertly carved and smoothed. It was instantly recognisable and he smiled, “I remember when I gave this to you.”  
“I always wear it,” said Padmé, looking down at the amulet in his hand, “I know then that you’ll always come back to me.” Sighing, she rested back against his chest, content just to sit with him and be held in his arms.

Dawn broke over the city, a hazy mist obscuring the buildings, the weak sun barely able to penetrate through the gloom. At the same time, Anakin woke up in response to his incessantly bleeping alarm, only to realise that he had a pounding headache. “Oof.”  
Padmé heard him stirring, “Is it that time already?”  
“Unfortunately," dropping a kiss on her cheek, Anakin reluctantly left the warm bed and started to pull on his Jedi tunic and pants. "If I miss the briefing Obi-wan will hopping mad."  
Padmé could hardly even imagine the calm Jedi Master showing that much emotion but she was too sleepy to think of a witty reply. "Are you okay?" she asked, thinking Anakin looked pale.  
"Just a headache my love, that's all." Wrapping himself in his cloak he came over and kissed her for a final time, “I love you.”

In the Temple’s strategy room, Obi-wan pointed to the colourful hologram of the Bakura system projected into the centre. “We have information that the situation in Bakura is critical for the CLONE; they have focused a substantial amount of their forces in this area as the system did not fall as quickly as they expected.”  
Behind Obi-wan, casting a critical eye on proceedings, were Senators Organa and Marr-asam, representatives of the Republic’s High Command. In front of him, scattered about the rows of seats that ran around half the circumference of the chamber, were about fifty Jedi, including Anakin. Although his headache had abated after eating some breakfast and drinking a herbal concoction meant to give energy, he found he had to concentrate twice as hard as usual on the steady tones of his Master. He did not remember having a sleepless night, although he had been forced to get up earlier than usual to get across the city in time for the meeting.  
“Dooku himself is overseeing the siege of the capital Batuke–Haram,” continued Obi-wan; although there were many bright eager faces in front of him, he could not help seeing that Anakin looked out of sorts. “Admiral Organa has already committed a sizeable force and it has been decided that myself and General Skywalker are to lead the campaign.”  
The young Twi-lek next to Anakin known as Kethlee smiled at him, “That sounds exciting.”  
“I know, can’t wait!” Anakin already felt his enthusiasm returning.  
“Now, on the other side of the Galaxy we have learned that General Grievous has left the bombardment of the Sluis Van shipyards. Most of our forces in that area are still concentrated on Corellia…”   
Obi-wan went on to describe the rest of the campaigns against the CLONE and soon the meeting was wrapped up. As Anakin made his way to the front of the room, he went over to where Obi-wan was conferring with Bail Organa.  
“Are you alright?” asked Obi-wan, concerned for his friend.  
“It’s just a headache,” Anakin said lightly, “it’s good to see that they have decided so quickly who is to lead the campaign to Bakura.”   
“Indeed and we are glad to have an illustrious Jedi Master in command,” replied Bail, as they both turned their attention to Obi-wan. “I hear congratulations are in order.”  
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Obi-wan looked away, embarrassed. Only the day before he had been promoted to the Jedi Council along with Shaak Ti.  
“Nothing?” replied Anakin, “ignore him Senator, he should be celebrating.”  
Bail looked at him with amusement, “You Jedi are always so loathe to boast about your achievements. But it really is wonderful news.”  
“Thank you, both of you,” Obi-wan allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction, “the only reason I am loathe to boast about it, as you put it, is because in many respects it is not a happy reason why I have been chosen to sit on the Council. Due to these wars we have lost many great Jedi Knights and Masters, many of whom were a worthy presence within the Order.”  
“I hear that General Grievous himself has been responsible for the deaths of a great many,” said Bail sympathetically, “and that he has amassed a collection of lightsabers that he wears like some gruesome trophy.”  
“Indeed,” replied Obi-wan, “You see why we desire to engage him.”  
“Hopefully this time he won’t get away from us,” stated Anakin assertively, “the information you have provided us with should enable us to pinpoint his position exactly.”  
“Yes, that information is extremely detailed,” agreed Bail Organa, “although it troubles me that the CLONE would broadcast it relatively openly, with only one level of encryption.”  
“We will be ready for evidence of treachery,” commented Obi-wan, already sceptical about any information from the CLONE based on previous experiences.

“Your Excellency, I have a matter that I wish to draw to your attention.” Wilhuff Tarkin, the Chancellor’s chief military strategist, stood in front of Palpatine’s desk, his thin shoulders rigid. “Moments ago an attack was made on Sluis Van that has destroyed a tenth of the shipyards. This attack could have been prevented if sufficient forces had been committed by the High Command to this strategic position.”  
“Indeed, their capacity will be greatly reduced,” murmured the Chancellor, glancing at the holopad before him. “You are in disagreement with the strategy of High Command?”  
“I am, your Grace.” Face as thin and sharp as a smuggler’s vibroknife, Tarkin had never been known to smile. “I have not yet told the Admiral of my reservations but he will know in due time. I firmly believe that the appointment of regional governors would eliminate such catastrophes; they would be able to deliver troops immediately to where they are needed rather than deal with the necessary slowness of a centralised system.”  
“We thank you for alerting us to this,” Palpatine looked to one of his closest advisors, Sly Moore. “Make a note that we will have to investigate the function of High Command.”  
“Yes, your Excellency,” Sly bowed and left the office promptly.  
The intercom buzzed on the desk. “Excuse me one moment.” Palpatine answered it, “What is it?”  
“Anakin Skywalker is here, your Excellency.”  
“Thank you, send him in.”  
The audience was at an end and Tarkin bowed smartly. “Thank you for your patience your Excellency.”  
“We are grateful for your insight,” Palpatine was looking more haggard than ever, an unhealthy pallor characterising his skin. “We will be in touch.”  
As Tarkin left, he passed the young Jedi coming into the office, exchanging the briefest of nods. Wary of the ambitious, hard-headed bureaucrat, Anakin continued down the steps and headed over to where the Chancellor was grasping for his stick, which had fallen too far to the side of his seat.  
“Here, let me get that for you," said Anakin in his calm voice, picking up the stick from where it had fallen and handing it to the stricken Chancellor.   
“Thank you Anakin,” the Chancellor took it gratefully, his hands were shaking slightly, “old age does not treat me well.”   
“It was not long ago when I needed one of those,” said Anakin sympathetically. Finally he had got used to the metal replacement in his leg and was back to his former strength.  
“I know and look how far you have recovered, it is enough to make an old man jealous.” Rising from his seat, Palpatine leaned on the stick heavily as he came out from behind his desk. “My old bones can hardly carry me but I thought we might go for a walk,” he smiled, holding out his arm to the young man, “I have been stuck in this office for so long."  
Anakin told him he should rest but the Chancellor was adamant. Together, they proceeded to the balcony that ran along the eastern side of the Executive suite of offices. It overlooked Manari Square where once huge parades had been held each year to celebrate the founding of the Republic. But since the war there had been no cause for celebration and the square stood empty, as did the skylanes since any unnecessary traffic had been diverted from the area.  
The Chancellor looked out over the Square, “I hear that Obi-wan Kenobi has been appointed to the Jedi Council.”  
“Yes.” Anakin was surprised that the Chancellor already knew of his friend’s promotion, it had not been widely circulated outside the Temple.  
“I imagine he pleased with his promotion?”  
“As pleased as a modest Jedi Master will allow himself to be,” smiled Anakin.  
“And how do you feel about it, Anakin?” The Chancellor’s voice was soft.  
“I am very happy for him, he deserves it.” This was the truth but Anakin wondered why the Chancellor needed to ask him that question.  
There was a pause. “I am greatly surprised they have not promoted you to the Council, after all Obi-wan has not defeated seven Dark Jedi.”  
“There were only two seats on the Council," Anakin said measuredly, "and the other seat went to Shaak Ti. Besides, they have far more experience than I have, the Council was right to promote them."  
“You know I have always admired your modesty Anakin.” Palpatine sighed audibly, “If only we had whole armies with your skills and your loyalty we would have surely won the war by now.”  
It was not that simple; the Chancellor, he knew, was isolated from the realities of the situation. “The armies try their best, your Grace, but we are spread across the Galaxy and we face great odds. There can be no easy victories until we bring Dooku and Grievous to account.”  
“Yes, that is what I have been led to believe by High Command. Still, with warriors like you in the field my mind is at ease that we will see some improvement in our position.”  
They walked along together, discussing the next campaign in Bakura, the Chancellor listening with interest as Anakin outlined how he and Obi-wan had been placed in charge.   
“I have asked that you share the responsibility equally with General Kenobi,” explained Palpatine, “I was most insistent upon that. You Anakin are representing the Republic’s interests as well as the interests of the Jedi Order.”  
“The Jedi support the Republic, your honour,” pointed out Anakin, unsure of his meaning, “there can be no question of that.”  
“Indeed, indeed.” Palpatine waved his concerns aside, “I was not questioning their support. However Anakin, you are one of few Jedi as far as I know that would place their devotion to the Republic on an equal footing as their devotion to the Order. Most Jedi would place the interests of the Order before the Republic would they not?”  
“There are a minority of Jedi who would prefer that the Order was less involved in the Republic,” replied Anakin hesitantly, “but as I say, they remain a minority. Most Jedi are practical and they know that the fate of the Order is shared with that of the Republic.”  
“Your loyalty does you credit, Anakin.” Palpatine smiled. “When the time comes for you to make the choice, the Republic knows that it can count on you. More and more I feel that the fate of the Republic lies in the hearts and minds of loyal men such as yourself.”


	9. The siege of Bakura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst Obi-wan and Anakin are called to Bakura to help the efforts against the CLONE, Senators Amidala and Organa meet with the Jedi Council to share their growing reservations about the actions of Chancellor Palpatine.

Standing at the bottom of the mountain, its peak hidden in the thick press of darkening clouds that swirled about it, Anakin had to admit it seemed a daunting task. “Is this really the only way?”  
“I’m afraid so,” said Obi-wan, patting the young man on the back.  
A mountainous planet, Bakura was renowned for the abundance of its minerals used in everything from power cells to electronic circuits. Its importance was therefore critical for their continued supply and for many months the CLONE had laid siege to the capital, Batuke-Haram, in order to gain control of these resources. And once the capital had fallen, the geography of the planet had hampered any serious operations to return control to the Republic. Mysterious forces had shaped the landscape in the planet’s infancy, heaving and moulding huge ridges and valleys that marched across the planet’s desolate and rock shattered surface. Batuke-Haram itself was dramatically built into the side of one of the most immense mountain ranges, as if suspended from the very rock. Reached only by a tortuous and winding route it had taken many redesigns of machines and equipment before the Republic Army felt secure enough to send a large enough force in retaliation. Communications likewise had been so hampered by CLONE interference that it had been months since any word had been sent from the remains of the Bakuran army. There was only the smallest of very small hopes that they were still alive.  
“It’s going to take time,” commented Anakin, scanning quickly through the strategy downloaded to his holopad. They had landed in one of the valleys adjacent to the site of the capital for camouflage but it meant having to scale the largest mountain that Anakin had ever seen and drop into the next valley before they could even see their target.  
"Hopefully not so long with the Karaka,” replied Obi-wan with a grin, knowing Anakin's aversion to non-mechanical transport. On Bakura the trusty steed was the Karaka; sinuous and powerful creatures with flat, splayed feet designed for scaling the treacherous rocks of the mountains. Both Jedi had been given a Karaka each although as they headed over to where the beasts were kept Obi-wan sensed that they were anxious.  
“It must be the coming storm that’s affecting them. Anakin, I’ll let you take that one.”  
Anakin looked over to where one of the Karaka was pawing the ground in frustration, bellowing and pulling at its constraints. “I’m a Jedi, not an animal tamer,” he said in mock horror. “Why can’t I have that one?” he asked, pointing to the more docile creature Obi-wan had chosen for himself.  
“Because I'm older than you,” grinned Obi-wan, pleased that he had negotiated with the lizards' owner and therefore had first choice. He did not relish the thought of riding such an angry animal any more than Anakin did.  
Expelling his breath noisily, Anakin went over to the Karaka. He looked at the handler, who was keeping a suitable distance away from the snorting beast, “Male or female?”  
“Female,” said the handler, chewing on a piece of grass nonchalantly, “you want to be careful, she’s already got me today.” He showed the Jedi his ripped sleeve, the ragged cut beneath steadily oozing blood beneath the bandage.  
“Right.” There had to be a more subtle way of winning the creature’s confidence. Although he felt really mean doing it he decided on a novel strategy; he was going to call his Karaka, Padmé.  
“Come on Anakin!” shouted Obi-wan already astride his Karaka, “stop dawdling. We’ll have defeated the CLONE before you’ve even mounted the saddle!”   
As Obi-wan rode away on the supple creature, Anakin turned back to ‘Padmé’, edging close cautiously. “So, we’ve established you’re female and that you’re pretty pissed off with something.” He looked in Padmé’s fearsome eyes; dark and malevolent, nevertheless they were fringed with long, thick lashes like her namesake’s. “I’m gonna call you Padmé okay? I hope you like that.”  
The Karaka did not seem to care for it at all, jumping forward in the restraints and bellowing loudly, causing Anakin to jump backwards. “Okay, okay.” He knew it was a mistake to show fear. Raising his hand, he tried to connect with the feelings of the Karaka, seeking to discover why it was so angry… maybe she was nervous too? “Don’t be afraid,” he said confidently, seeing she was responding to his own nerves, finding a whisper of emotion in the Karaka’s mind that he could cling to, moving forwards cautiously, seeking to soothe her turmoil, trying to calm her…

Obi-wan was getting worried; there was still no sign of Anakin and it was almost time to begin their ascent, he wondered if he had been a little to harsh to give him the angrier animal. But then he heard the pitter-pat of flat feet behind him. Turning round in his saddle, he saw Anakin coming towards him riding the now tame Karaka. “So, you managed it.”  
“She seems alright now she’s got to know me,” smiled Anakin smugly, coming to a stop next to Obi-wan. Beneath him the Karaka murmured quietly. “There, there, Padmé” he said soothingly, patting its scaly hide, “it’s alright.”  
“You called it Padmé?” Obi-wan shook his head, “wait until I tell the Senator.”  
“It was the first female name that came into my head,” grinned Anakin, grasping his reins more securely as the Karaka stirred impatiently, “besides, she seemed to like it.”  
“Whatever makes you happy, Anakin,” said Obi-wan, not for the first time thinking that his friend was half-crazed.  
But his bizarre strategy seemed to work, and as they started up the mountain Padmé was bounding over the broken stones and tufted grasses as enthusiastically as her fellow. Both Jedi were impressed by the agility of the creatures, even with them on their backs they climbed with great skill and speed, even on the more unstable looking surfaces. Indeed much of the slopes were covered with shattered rock, remnants of the freezing winters that eroded the softer grey rock forming the mountains. Layered within the rock were the harder minerals, glittering in the intermittent sunlight where they had been exposed by the patient activities of erosion.  
But eventually the slopes became even too steep for the Karaka to carry the two Jedi and they were forced to dismount. They climbed up the steep winding path formed by the fallen rocks; surrounded on all sides by sheer walls of rugged rock; it was hard going, and Anakin hoped that his new leg would be able to withstand the pressure. The clouds were descending as they climbed and it grew colder and more desolate, the wind shrieking around them. Despite the cold, the energy they expended caused Obi-wan to only get hotter, finally removing his cloak in an attempt to cool down, laying it across the Karaka’s saddle. They continued up the steeply climbing ridge, rocks turning from shattered scree to larger slabs, fallen higgledy-piggledy from the peak above, still crowned with tall grey fingers hanging haphazardly above them. Looking up, Anakin imagined that they must have been hanging there for centuries but he still hoped that they did not decide to slide down the mountain whilst he was beneath them.  
They climbed from slab to slab, finding it was easier to negotiate than the slippery and treacherous scree. Obi-wan saw that some of the rocks were wet, indicating a small stream beneath them; they waited patiently whilst the two Karaka drank deeply, taking some of the water to allay their own thirsts. Whilst they rested, Anakin took the opportunity to admire the view. From all sides he could see the mountains marching onwards towards the raging seas in the distance. From his perspective the sea seemed so near although he knew it would be several days journey. In the opposite valley he could see mists gathering over the browns and purples of the vegetation, a small lake glittering in the sun before it disappeared behind another bloated cloud.  
With the Karakas’ thirst quenched, they began their ascent again up the slabs. By now the Republic army had caught up with them and from a distance they appeared as tiny black specks scattered across the mountain, not that far from the ridge in distance but requiring huge effort to scale the final, almost vertical, rocks.  
Panting heavily and finding that he had strained muscles he did not know he even had, Anakin reached the top of the ridge first. Obi-wan was not far behind him and together they looked across to the next ridge where the capital Batuke–Haram could be seen holding on grimly to its pinnacle. Below that were the grassy plains of the valley floor where there could be seen evidence of siege machines and armoured gun turrets, could be heard the tiny rumble of explosions, see the smoke surrounding the city walls. High above them the sky was cleft by dark clouds, pressed together closely, pulsing and reforming with the wind that whipped across the plains below. It would not be long until the storm broke.  
Getting his breath back, Anakin turned to Obi-wan. “So there is still a Republic presence here!”  
“It looks like it,” agreed Obi-wan, passing him the electro-binoculars for a better look.  
Through the viewfinder Anakin could see that there was some kind of exchange going on between the city and the small force on the ground; it looked like laser fire but they were still too far away to be sure. “And Dooku is somewhere hiding in the city.”  
“And Grievous, if the reports are true,” said Obi-wan slowly, turning from the view towards their own troops gathering on the ridge behind them. “Maybe he will be brave enough this time to engage us in fair combat. I am beginning to suspect that Grievous is a coward.”  
“He boasts of killing twelve Jedi Knights,” replied Anakin, remembering how the Council was looking more and more depleted by the month. "But you're right in some respects, he never stays around long enough to face us."  
“One day we'll catch him,” said Obi-wan determinedly, "and he won't have a chance to escape."  
“General Kenobi.” One of the troops saluted him smartly; “we have established radio contact with the main force in the valley. They will be waiting for your signal.”  
“Excellent.” Obi-wan decided that they would make their descent under cover of darkness, “that will also give us some time to gather our resources.”  
Leaving the ridge, the two Jedi headed over to where the army were gathering, intent on their grim purpose.

Blue skies were finally seen over Coruscant, the first pleasant weather in the Republic’s capital for months. The sunlight bathed the buildings with its gentle illumination, softening the faces of the Army High Command, Senators and Jedi who had met to discuss the progress of the war in the Temple. Spacious and functional as the room was, the view over Coruscant from its windows was considered one of the best on the city-planet and had clinched the choice. Representing the Jedi were Masters Windu and Ki ali mundi, their usually calm demeanours shaken by the recent demoralising reports from the battlefields spread across the Galaxy. Joining then from the Senate were the familiar faces of the Loyalists; Padmé Amidala, who had become their unofficial leader, a stressed looking Bail Organa and Fang Zar, devoted pacifist and loyal friend and colleague to Padmé and Bail. All were meeting without the knowledge of the Executive or the Senate, all knew the great risk that they were taking.  
“The tide has turned on Bakura however,” said Bail, reaching the end of an otherwise depressing report. “General Kenobi has reported only this morning that they have broken the siege.” Sitting at the circular table of breemawood, the delicate scent was helping him to relax. “It will take them some time to mop up remaining resistance but Bakura is free once more.”  
“Joyful news at last,” said Mace, clasping his hands together. “That siege has been dragging on for months. Trust Obi-wan and Skywalker to bring it to a successful conclusion.”  
“I hear that Anakin played a decisive role in breaking the siege,” continued Bail, knowing that Padmé in particular would be interested in hearing about the younger Jedi. “He single-handedly scaled the walls of the city to rescue Obi-wan from Count Dooku before leaping across an eight foot chasm to avoid being captured by a squadron of Noghri agents.”  
"It makes a good story for the Holonet," said Padmé lightly, mostly pleased to hear that Anakin was alive.  
“Indeed, General Kenobi expressed a similar view, but he could not doubt the sincerity of the soldiers who witnessed it, apparently Anakin told him very little about it."  
The young man's modesty was well known and Mace Windu smiled, "What does this mean for the Republic forces, Admiral?" The fact it had taken two Generals and the largest force in the war so far proved how draining Bakura had been on their resources.  
"Now that some of the pressure has been taken off our forces, we can distribute them more evenly. In particular, we need to send the fleet to the Sluis Van shipyards which have taken a battering recently. We have also attempted to reopen negotiations. Now that the Clone have suffered a major defeat they may be in a position to accept our offer.”  
“Where are the Jedi most needed?”  
“I am keen to keep them in the Outer Rim, that is where we are facing the heaviest resistance from the CLONE. We need more decisive victories like Bakura. We can no longer afford to put our troops in needless danger, the cost is growing too huge and I’m ashamed to say, not merely the cost of life.”  
Mace looked at him in interest, “You mean the economic cost?”  
“The Bwell-we of Kamino do not offer their services for free,” said Padmé for explanation, “and by taking on the Army they have created, we also have agreed to take on their significant costs.”  
“The Republic is running a significant deficit which is causing a huge outcry in the Senate,” sighed Fang Zar, smoothing the feathery protuberances at his neck. "The Executive is having to borrow more and more from a range of sources, not all of them with the future security of the Republic in mind."   
“Public services will also have to be cut where possible,” said Bail, “and the Chancellor has promised cuts in the bureaucracy. But as yet the Senate cannot agree on how many cuts need to be made, or where they should be made.”  
“I heard there had been some unrest in the Senate over the granting of more funds to the war effort recently,” commented Ki ali mundi, sensing that concerns ran deeper than the Senators were admitting.  
“There has been concern over the cost of the war for a long time,” replied Fang Zar, his voice rippling softly, “the Senate expected a quick victory over the CLONE and the Separatists. No one expected it to drag on quite as long as it has.”  
“That is true,” agreed Mace, glancing at his colleague, “we certainly did not expect it.”  
“But then, other senators are asking for more credits to be put towards the war,” said Bail, “they do not feel enough is being done. There are so many factions forming it is becoming increasingly difficult for the Chancellor to steer a course through them. Despite the powers granted to him, the bureaucracy is demanding more control over the economy so they can deal with the demands of war.”  
“There is some unrest,” said Mace sagely, sensing that the Senators were keeping their real reservations to themselves, “with the actions of the Executive?”  
Looking at Bail for confirmation, Padmé felt she had to be honest in the company of the perceptive Jedi Master. “We have some concerns, that is correct. Not least the extensive powers that the Executive claims it needs to be able to continue its support for the war.”  
“The focus on the capture of Dooku and Grievous is a policy that the High Command have supported to its utmost,” said Bail, “however, it is increasingly obvious that they have access to intelligence that enables them to be one step ahead of the Republic army. It is exhausting our supplies and our troops in the meantime. We think it would be better to concentrate more resources on finding the leak within our intelligence and the whereabouts of the CLONE leaders, who might give us some leverage to either negotiation or defeating Dooku.”  
“I must admit we have felt at times their capture would bring a speedy resolution to the war,” said Mace Windu, “but I appreciate alternative methods should be considered.”  
“Unfortunately these are strategies that the Executive are not keen to back,” continued Bail, glancing over to Padmé, “they do not think the citizens of the Galaxy will understand the change of focus and will lose their trust in the Republic’s leaders.”  
“But they have supported Admiral Organia’s decision to re-open negotiations,” asserted Padmé. “We cannot imagine the CLONE have infinite resources. They may be amenable and it may enable an end to the conflict without any more unnecessary bloodshed.”   
“Your position is commendable,” said Ki ali mundi, who was stirred by admiration for the quiet resolve of the young woman, “and if the Jedi can have any influence in the Senate we will support the re-opening of negotiations.”  
“We would be very grateful for the Jedi’s assistance,” replied Padmé, pleased that they were proving so agreeable. There were rumours that a more fanatical type of Jedi, who wanted little to do with the war were gaining power in the Temple. Mace Windu however seemed to share a similar perspective to Anakin and Obi-wan. Whilst she did not agree with all their perspectives on the politics of the war, when it came to the fundamentals she knew they had much in common.  
“Then there is the matter of regional governors.”  
“Regional governors?” Windu made a mental note to take an increasing interest in the minutiae of affairs, they had relied so much on Obi-wan and Anakin recently with their connections to the Senate that they had lost touch.  
“As a means of regulating costs and ensuring stricter control of war effort, the bureaucracy has asked that systems are assigned regional governors as a temporary measure until the war is over.”  
“The Senate agrees with this?”  
“Support has only been lukewarm so far,” said Fang Zar optimistically.  
“But the Chancellor seems to like the idea,” said Padmé meaningfully.  
She conveyed all she needed to and the Jedi exchanged concerned looks. “We will keep our eyes open” said Mace, making a note on the holopad in front of him. "It sounds like the bureaucracy are trying to increase their power base coincidentally as cuts are threatened.”  
“Our thoughts exactly.” Bail knew that for bureaucracy he only had to substitute ‘Chancellor’ and they would be closer to reality. “But we do not think that the Senate will agree to it, it will be a step too far.” Glancing at the time, he smiled apologetically, “Speaking of the Senate, please forgive us but we will have to end the meeting so that we can get there in time.”  
“Another long session?”  
Bail nodded, “I expect so.”  
“Thank you for sharing your concerns with us,” said Mace Windu, accompanying the three senators to the door, “you have reminded us that we need to involve ourselves a little more in politics. These decisions will affect us all.” The splits in the Council were becoming more pronounced but Mace knew that lack of information fuelled much of the Evangelicals support.   
“Indeed, that is why we must be careful that they are the right decisions,” said Padmé soberly, pulling on her coat, “and made for the right reasons.”  
With the senators gone, Mace went back over to the table where Ki adi mundi remained seated, quietly considering the implications of the meeting.  
“We have been most ignorant,” said Mace as he took his seat, “we should take more interest in the Senate and press upon those Jedi who seek detachment that it is not in our best interests. These fundamental changes in the structure and constitution of the Republic are going to affect the Jedi Order sooner rather than later."  
“I agree, detachment is not in our best interests,” said Ki ali mundi, who like Mace shared the view that the motives of the Evangelicals was premised on a lack of true understanding about the war's threat to the ideals of the Republic. “Am I correct in thinking that the Chancellor is manoeuvring the bureaucracy to take over the Republic? Thereby increasing his own powers?”  
“It would seem so, from what the Senators suggest,” agreed Mace Windu, “I sense that there is more discontent with the Chancellor than they will admit. But we must be cautious. They will have their own agendas.”  
“It does suggest that the Chancellor is less impartial than he makes out.” Ki ali mundi had always remained neutral towards the seemingly benevolent and just elder man in the face of mounting criticism from his comrades but even he was beginning to suspect underlying motives to the unassuming facade. “What do you suggest we do?”  
“We need more evidence before we can ascertain his motives,” replied Mace.  
“It is a shame that Anakin Skywalker is not here, he has a good connection to the Chancellor’s office,” said Ki ali mundi, almost as an afterthought.  
“You’re right,” said Mace, considering his comment. “The Chancellor seems to take a remarkable interest in him which we might take advantage of, although we must be careful not to endanger him in the process." The powers that had already been granted to the Chancellor and his office made him a formidable opponent, even for a talented Jedi.  
“Even so it could be months before Anakin returns from the Outer Rim and we do not have months,” warned Ki adi mundi. "Would it be wise to hold an audience with the Chancellor and probe his version of events?"  
“I do not know,” said Mace thoughtfully, “we must discuss it with the Council first, we do not want to alert the Chancellor to our suspicions before we have collected enough evidence.”  
“You are wise, Master Windu.” Ki adi mundi stood up, eager to start the process, "we must find out more before we approach the Chancellor."  
“Only darkness I sense,” said the Jedi Master sonorously, “we must proceed with caution.”

A lone figure stood looking out over the walls of Batuke–Haram, wavy fair hair blowing in the incessant wind that swirled and trammelled its way through the mountain peaks. His dark robes were stark against the lighter stone around him, the fabric of his cloak flapping about him like the wings of some monstrous bird of doom; Anakin Skywalker was to all intents and purposes examining the destruction wreaked on the fortress after the recent battle but in reality he was staring through it, his mind on other things. It galled him that their quarry, Dooku and General Grievous, had managed to escape them yet again. It was almost uncanny that just as they located him, had caught up with him, the Sith Lord slipped through their fingers as easily as sand. Yes the CLONE army had suffered severe losses, and yes, the planet was theirs. But it was an empty victory as far as the young Jedi was concerned as long as their enemy remained at large. It had become his determination – reaching an obsession – to capture Dooku and Grievous, to put an end to all the humiliation the Galaxy had suffered at their hands. However, after what had happened on Kessel, there was growing within Anakin a deeper, unconscious need to avenge the pain and suffering that he and Obi-wan had personally endured from Dooku’s actions.   
“Hello Master.” He sensed Obi-wan’s approach even before he heard the soft footsteps behind him.  
“There you are, Anakin.” Obi-wan was panting slightly from the number of stairs he had needed to climb to reach the top. He smiled at the tousled hair of his companion, “Windy up here is it?”  
“I hadn’t noticed,” deadpanned Anakin, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Were you looking for me?”  
“I was, yes.” Obi-wan folded his hands into his wide sleeves; “a message has come through from High Command, congratulating us on our victory.”  
“You climbed all the way up here to tell me that?” Anakin smiled, "You could have just reached me on the communicator, saved yourself the effort."  
“I also have details from the Admiral of our next move, it's too sensitive to broadcast." He sensed that something was preying on the younger man’s mind.  
“To Coruscant for a vacation?” As much as he wanted to defeat Dooku, a part of him longed to see Padmé. Had it been five months since he had last seen her? It made little difference to his aching heart.  
“Sadly not,” smiled Obi-wan, "I've come to take my leave; I am being sent with half the force to Sluis Van, you are taking the other half to Arakhan."  
“What's this, more Jedi who need bailing out?” It was a shared opinion between them that they were often called in to mop up the less successful attempts of their Jedi companions.  
“Come now Anakin,” said Obi-wan, resting a hand gently on the young man’s arm. Immediately he could feel the tension there, “they can't all be as talented as ourselves. And even we are not perfect."  
“No." Obi-wan was right, he was putting too much pressure on himself to be the perfect Jedi. As the wind coursed past them, he imagined his worries floating away with it, streaming out from him like a black, malcontent cloud.  
“Is something the matter?” Obi-wan was looking at him with concern.  
“No,” began Anakin, “well yes. I’m just frustrated with this never-ending wild bantha chase between us and Dooku.” He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, “Every time we get close, he disappears again. How does he do it?"  
“You said it yourself Anakin," said Obi-wan seeing that Anakin was in one of his moods, "Dooku may have contacts on Coruscant still-"  
“Then we need to find them,” he asserted, gazing over the precipice edge. “We should make it our priority when we get back to Coruscant. You're on the Council now, Obi-wan," he went on earnestly, "you must have some leverage?"  
“I will do all I can to ensure resources are diverted to the matter,” Obi-wan assured the younger man, “but we have to be careful. The Evangelicals are gaining greater support in the Temple as this war drags on and are likely to veto anything that involves Jedi spending more time away from meditation and studying the Force.”  
"What good they think that will do," scoffed Anakin, “Maybe they should spend some time in the field?"  
“Come on,” ordered Obi-wan, gesturing to the stairwell, “you haven't eaten all day, you need to rest.”  
Following Obi-wan back down to the lower levels of the fortress Anakin felt some of his enthusiasm returning. They were keeping them busy and he liked that – it was only in the silence, in the dead hours of waiting that his fears nagged him like some incessant child demanding attention. And they were getting louder and harder to ignore.

Admiral Organa's office was located close to the Senate itself, on the uppermost floor of one of the government district’s forbidding skyscrapers. He had spent much time there recently even to create within the small antechamber usually reserved for an assistant a bed so that he could have frequent naps rather than waste too much time sleeping.  
“I cannot believe this!” Padmé came over to Bail Organa’s desk and picked up the holopad he had indicated. “The Chancellor himself intends to negotiate with the CLONE?”  
“He is set on it my lady,” sighed Bail, leaning back in his chair. “Believe me we have tried everything to dissuade him but he insists that it is the only course of action.”  
“By putting himself in danger?” Padmé was too agitated to read the exact details and replaced the holopad on the desk.  
“He does have a point,” said Bail diplomatically, “despite the best efforts of the army we have taken some heavy losses in the Outer Rim. For every victory there is a setback elsewhere and the danger comes closer to Coruscant everyday. We need another solution.”  
“I agree that we need to reopen peace negotiations with the CLONE,” replied Padmé, taking a seat at the front of the desk. “But surely we can send ambassadors? If the CLONE take the Chancellor as a hostage…”  
“It won’t come to that my lady,” assured Bail, pouring her a cup of chai, “we have clear assurances from the CLONE that the Chancellor’s return will be honoured.”  
“And you trust them?”  
“We have to,” said Bail, “We will, however, take the precaution of sending with his escort two of the most able Jedi Masters, Shaak Ti and Stass Allie. That ought to make the CLONE think twice before attempting anything.”   
“I hope you’re right.” Padmé frowned. “But what happens to the Executive during his absence?”  
“I’m glad you asked that,” replied Bail, what seemed to be a smile lighting up his stern features. “The Chancellor has drawn up a list of senators that he wishes to take control of the Executive in his absence. This list is to be approved this afternoon in Senate.”  
“I wonder who is on this list?” murmured Padmé, thinking it would be another chance for the Chancellor’s cronies to gain more power.  
Bail handed her the holopad again, “Maybe you should read more, Senator Amidala.”  
“I have read so much recently I think my eyes will pop out soon,” she said ruefully, but she dutifully read the list after scrolling down to the appropriate section. “Oh.”  
“Pleased are you?”  
For clearly listed beneath Senators Organa, Aak, Zar and Danu, was her own name. Senator Amidala. “I am… I am very surprised.”  
“So were we,” admitted Bail, sipping his drink now that it had cooled, “especially since we suspected it would be a matter for Palpatine’s cronies.”  
“I’m glad I’m not the only cynical one,” smiled Padmé, re-reading the list and seeing many Senators she recognised, the so-called Loyalists who had made their name around the time of the Battle of Geonosis. “It will be a marvellous opportunity. We will be able to put forward those reforms we desired.”  
“Indeed, and ensure that many of the so-called reforms the Chancellor desires are stalled, at least until his return. Maybe we can convince the Senate that it would be folly to…” The intercom buzzed on Bail’s desk. “Excuse me,” he said to Padmé, reaching over. “Yes?”  
“The Chancellor has called an emergency session of Senate,” came the clipped tones of Bail’s assistant Sheltray Retrac. “At 1500 hours. He expects all Senators to attend.”  
“Excellent, thank you Sheltray.” The intercom winked off and Bail smiled at Padmé. “Do you think we should take this chance if it is offered to us?”  
“Yes I do,” agreed Padmé, rising from her seat gracefully despite the weight of her gown. “I only hope that the Senate will agree with the choice that the Chancellor has made.”  
“I would expect so,” grunted Bail, taking his travelling cloak from the stand by the window, “they tend to agree with his desires.”  
“Except for once it will be to our advantage,” beamed Padmé, already excited about the possibilities it opened up for the beleaguered Republic.  
And with a new optimism, and with hope in their hearts, the two Senators, weary of war and weary of bureaucracy, left the office for the Senate.


End file.
